How to Save a Life
by LawliPop
Summary: True love stories don't always have happy endings. // MalikxRyou // COMPLETE!
1. How It Was: One

_A/N: This fic is totally based off of an Roleplay of mine on GaiaOnline. I took the idea of our Roleplay, but changed it around a little bit to fit this story a bit better. If you'd like to see the original Roleplay, I believe my RP partner will be posting it on here soon... If not, PM me and I'll send you the link to it. ;)_

_Warnings: Shounen-ai. (MalikxRyou... and possible others.)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Yuugiou, sadly. :'(_

_

* * *

_

_How to Save a Life_

****

PART ONE --- HOW IT WAS

* * *

_**July, 2016.**_

_I never wanted to be a waiter. If you approached me ten years ago and asked me to tell you my goals for the future, serving in a restaurant – five-star or otherwise – definitely would not have been the answer you received. Back then... ten years ago I had big plans, huge plans for myself. I wanted to go to college and study to be a psychologist. I was smart enough to get into just about any college I wanted. Top of my classes all through high school. Graduated as valedictorian. I was overwhelmed by college scholarship offerings; schools wanted me. I could have gone anywhere, studied anything I wanted. I had the opportunity to make a name for myself... the chance to do something with my life. _

_I turned it down; gave up on the dream._

_Maybe I wasn't as smart as everyone thought I was. And whatever intelligence I might have possessed has certainly diminished over the years; that I know for a fact. _

_Hear I am, advancing on thirty, getting older and more sluggish with each passing day. By this age I should be financially secure with a promising career. I should be married with three kids, living in the colonial house on the beach with the dog and everything. The whole nine yards,_

_But here I am instead, waiting tables and barely managing to pay the rent for my run-down apartment each month. Who knows what I'll be doing next month, or where I'll be. I can never manage to hold a job for very long. I get restless. If I stay in one place for too long, I begin to remember events of my past... events I don't exactly wish to remember. The memories start to get triggered by anything. Whenever that starts to happen, I pack up and go to another county, another city. I've never left the country or the state... but one day I'll run out of places to go here._

_I'm single. Not really into the whole dating scene anymore. Actually, I find it rather embarrassing to go out on dates – almost as embarrassing as admitting to be twenty-seven and still not wearing that golden band. Some people say they understand. They tell me I just haven't found "the one" yet. The one... my soul mate. I say maybe they're right, just to please them. But I know they're not right. _

_My soul mate... the one I want to marry... I met him already. But there was no hope for us from the beginning. Our relationship was doomed to fail from the start. And I think I knew that, even when I first got involved with him. But I still wanted to give us a chance... to try for that happiness. I was still innocent enough to believe in hope... to believe maybe we really could be together forever. _

_God, I loved him so much. _

_We met ten years ago, almost exactly. It was the week after Seto Kaiba's infamous Battle City tournament. I was by myself, as usual; taking a walk near Domino Harbor. I must have walked right passed him and not even noticed him. He called out my name. _

_I wonder: would I have just kept on walking if he hadn't called out to me? Would it have been better for me if I never met him that night? Sometimes I think back on our relationship, and just think to myself if I could have lived that year without him. I certainly would have been spared a great deal of pain. But before I met him, I was already in pain, and he erased it for me. It is difficult to answer whether or not being with him was worth it. _

_Regardless, he cried out to me that night, and I stopped walking and turned to face him. _

_Was that the biggest mistake of my life? I don't know anymore... It's hard for me to think about this. But unless I think about it, I can't come to terms with and accept all that happened, and I'll never be able to put it all behind me and move on. _

_What do you think? _

_I suppose you need to know more. I guess I can tell you. My shift doesn't start for another two hours. Come, sit down next to me. _

_It began ten years ago, as I've already told you. I remember it was raining that night... He always hated thunderstorms. I always loved the way his hair looked when it was wet..._

* * *

**July, 2006**. 

Domino City was very still at night. Now that the Battle City tournament had ended - with the non-surprising victory of Yugi Mutou over the feared Malik Ishtar - many tourists left the city and the population had returned to normal, as did the life of the town. There was no more commotion. No more excited noise.

Everyone went on with what they usually did - whether it be going to the movie theater with friends or, in Ryou Bakura's case, taking a quiet walk along the Domino Harbor. His other friends had gone to the arcade, forgetting to extend an invite his way, as usual. But Ryou was never angry with them for leaving him behind. He understood why they did, after all; they were afraid that the Spirit of the Sennen Ring would take over and try to fight Yugi again.

A slight drizzle surrounded him, and he maneuvered around the falling raindrops unskillfully, getting soaked in a short amount of time but not really caring. The rain never bothered Ryou. In fact, he rather liked it. He considered it perfect thinking weather, and at the present moment he was consumed by thoughts of Battle City. He recalled all that happened during what was only meant to be the friendly competition... all the lives that had been put in danger, his own included.

Although he had been comatose more than half the time, Yugi had no problem filling him in with the events and the outcome of each duel. Mai Kujaku's soul had been sent to the Shadow Realm by Malik's villainous alter-ego, along with Katsuya Jounouchi's soul, and even the real Malik's soul. But they overcame Malik's evil half, and freed the real Malik from his possession.

Ryou was intrigued by this information. It reminded him vaguely of his own situation of the Sennen Ring, and the Spirit it housed. Malik was possessed by his alter-ego, just as Ryou constantly surrendered control of his body to the evil Spirit of the Ring. He found it odd, this similarity between them, and he liked the knowledge that someone else out there felt what he was going through even if they didn't know him personally.

"Bakura-kun!"

Mocha orbs blinked, and Ryou stopped in his tracks. Was it just his imagination, or was someone calling him? His friends were all at the arcade, so it was weird that anyone else would recognize him. Perhaps someone from school? But who, besides himself, would be out during such weather?

"Bakura-kun!"

Hearing his name again, he decided it was definitely not his mind playing tricks on him. Turning around quickly, his eyes landed on a familiar slim and dark-skinned male figure.

_Speak of the devil,_ he thought, forcing himself not to laugh at the irony. He had just been thinking of the Battle City finals and those involved in them, and out of nowhere, it seemed, appeared the runner-up of the tournament who Ryou had just been likening to himself. Talk about a coincidence.

Not wanting to be rude, Ryou closed the large gap between them, coming to a stop about three feet across from the Egyptian. As was expected, he gave a small, polite bow in greeting.

"Um, hello, Ishtar-kun," he said unsurely, not quite knowing what else he could say to the other teenager. He'd never really spoken to Malik before – not in his right mind, at least; he was sure that whatever encounters he may have had with the Egyptian during Battle City were all at times when Bakura had been in possession of his body, for the albino couldn't remember a single time when he and Malik conversed before this point.

Malik gave a small chuckle; it was a pleasant sound to Ryou's ears. "Good evening," he greeted in a voice as cheerful as he could make it. "What are you doing out here on such a dreary night?" he asked, stepping aside to take shelter from the rain underneath the covered entrance of a closed store.

Ryou was once again reminded of the rain around him as he watched the Egyptian move to stand underneath the store's awning. Looking down at himself and seeing his clothes were already soaked all the way through, he figured moving under the canopy would be rather pointless. But he moved to stand with Malik anyways, figuring he would probably catch cold if he stayed out in the open rain for too long. He kept a relatively safe distance between them, not wishing to make the other teen uncomfortable in any way.

"Oh, just... taking a walk," he said in response, a casual smile on his face. "What about you?" he wondered. Surely Malik Ishtar would have other friends or evil henchmen that he could be hanging out with on a Saturday night.

"Same here. Isis and Rashid are back in Egypt, but I decided to stay here in Domino a while longer."

Malik was silent for a moment, his lilac eyes focused on the pavement beneath his feet. Ryou thought he wasn't going to say anything more, so he was surprised to discover he was wrong.

"Look, Bakura-kun –"

"Ryou," the white-haired teen interrupted, earning a puzzled look in response. "You can call me Ryou, if you like," he elaborated with a gentle smile. He'd never asked anyone to call him by his first name before, but after the last two tournaments involving the Spirit of the Ring taking over his body, he began to associate the name 'Bakura' with his darker half; he didn't ever want someone calling him by the name he referred to his darker half as. So ever since he gained consciousness after Battle City, he'd been requesting that all of his friends call him by his birth name from that moment on.

"Okay... Um, look, Ryou," Malik said, his voice different – lower, apologetic sounding. "I hope that I didn't hurt you or your friends--well, I know I did, but I didn't mean to... And... I'm just...really sorry for all the things I've done."

A sigh escaped his slightly-parted lips. Ryou smiled, letting out a small laugh.

"Oh, well, thank you. But you don't have to apologize to me," he said honestly.

He really didn't have anything to blame on the Egyptian. It wasn't as if his friends hadn't distrusted him before Malik came along or anything like that. And while there was the whole incident with Malik forming an allegiance with Bakura, he blamed his darker half more than the Ishtar.

"I was pretty much unconscious the whole time." He placed his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans. "And that doesn't really explain what you're doing out tonight, when it's raining..."

Malik shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "So I don't really have an excuse... I guess I like the rain. It doesn't rain a lot in Egypt... and even if it did, I was underground most of my life, so I never would have gotten the chance to see or enjoy it."

Ryou nodded, his vision beginning to wander. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully, trying to think of something to say. This was why it was so difficult for him to make new friends; he always created these uncomfortable silences.

_Think, Ryou, think... No, don't even think. Just say something,_ his mind yelled at him, and the albino agreed without another thought.

"W-would you like to get something to eat?" he blurted.

Brown eyes widened slightly and Ryou clamped his mouth shut, mentally scolding himself.

_Think before you speak, moron,_ his mind snapped, completely forgetting the earlier command of not to think.

"I-I... I mean," Ryou stuttered, trying to correct the error. "We both aren't doing anything... and... uh... If you really are sorry and want to make it up to me you can buy me dinner," he added the joke quietly at the end, his cheeks blushing slightly.

Malik was taken aback by this. He was surprised to hear that someone wanted to spend time with him. Instead of dying of shock on the spot, he cracked a smile at the small joke at the end of Ryou's words and nodded his head. What was the harm in it? Even if it had been a joke, it was still an offer. And since Malik was in the market for real friends, he would have to be an idiot to refuse.

"Sure I'll buy you dinner."

Ryou's eyes widened slightly. Malik was... _agreeing_? He certainly hadn't expected that. Then again, he hadn't exactly expected himself to be so forward and ask the Egyptian to buy him dinner, either. This night was most certainly full of surprises, and Ryou hadn't even been out for very long yet.

"R-really?" he asked, still in disbelief, his face flushing.

"Yeah, why not?" Lilac eyes squinted as he turned to look across the street from the Harbor. Several tiny restaurants dotted the street, only few of them still open. "Which place did you have in mind?" He smiled, though his hands were shaking slightly.

"Oh, it... it doesn't matter to me," Ryou answered, following Malik's gaze to the restaurants across the street. "I'm not a picky eater. Any of these places are fine with me."

_So is this a date?_ The albino wondered, before mentally shaking his head to the question. _Don't be stupid. You don't even know the guy._

"Well, I must admit I don't know much about the food here, and I haven't really been out much except when I was in that whole..._phase..._"

Malik's voice died out into an inaudible whisper at the shame of his deed in Battle City -- where he went around performing his infamous mind-control stunts.

Ryou frowned, the embarrassment now gone from his face. "Hey, don't feel bad," he said softly. "Going by just what Yugi and the others told me, it sounds as if it wasn't even you who did most of that stuff. I mean, it was you, but... you weren't in total control when you did those things." He offered the Egyptian a sympathetic smile. "... I know what that's like."

The albino decided to leave it at that, not wanting to stir up any more painful memories.

Malik nodded his head and then cleared his throat. "How about we check out that place?" he suggested, looking back across the ways and pointing to a bar and grill.

Glancing over at the place Malik pointed out, he sweated a little. It didn't appear very inviting, but he supposed it was worth a shot. "U-um... sure, that's fine with me," he said slowly. "Never been there before."

The rain began to pick up.

"Alright then, let's head over." Malik said, stepping out into the now pouring rain. It felt nice to have those gentle droplets of water tickle and drop on his exposed shoulders. It didn't take long for the rain to soak his lavender top and black jeans, but Malik couldn't have cared less.

He looked back at Ryou and motioned him to follow, smiling at him, though Ryou probably couldn't see due to the rain pouring downwards from the melancholy gray sky.

Ryou pulled his shirt up a little bit so that the light material somewhat shielded the top of his head and chased after Malik. "W-wait for me!" he stammered, slipping on the wet pathway but catching himself before he could go tumbling to the ground.

A few clumsy seconds later, Ryou was back at Malik's side and standing in front of the bar and grill. The Egyptian began laughing as Ryou tripped his way underneath the canopy in front of the restaurant. He asked if the albino was okay, and Ryou merely flushed in embarrassment in response.

Ryou pulled his shirt back down, smoothing it out somewhat and chuckling softly as he realized that the fabric shield had done nothing to keep his hair from getting wetter. The long white locks were as drenched as every other part of him. Reaching back, he grabbed a fistful of his hair and squeezed the excess water from it before returning his attention to the Egyptian.

Malik flashed him a charming smile and grasped the doorknob, pulling the door open and gesturing for Ryou to enter before himself. "After you," he insisted.

"Oh my, what a gentleman," the fair-skinned teen observed with a wink, entering the bar and grill and then turning around to wait for the other to follow.

Malik followed soon after, and the gentle tinkling of bells was heard overhead as the door slowly closed behind him.

It was a slow night for the restaurant. Only about three customers huddled around a table near the bar, each nursing a bottle of beer and putting in their two cents about the outcome of the Battle City tournament. Even the bartender was involved in the conversation, adding her own comments every now and again as well as asking the men if they wanted another round.

A distinct smell of alcohol and smoke filled the air, causing Ryou to wrinkle his nose in distaste.

One of the men said something that caused the others to howl with laughter. The little group quieted down, however, as soon as they saw the two drenched young men enter. Their gazes focused primarily on Malik, taking in his exotic appearance and immediately recognizing him.

It was an awkward situation for Malik, and he lowered his head, hoping that his blond hair would cover up his infamous identity but knowing his attempt was futile.

"Hey... aren't you that kid Malik Ishtar?" one of the men asked, his mustache twitching as his lips formed a scowl.

"Yeah, I think he is!" the bartender answered the question, and there was a noticeable American accent in her voice.

Malik gulped, looking away and telling himself over and over again to ignore their words and glares.

"Ain't you gonna say somethin, tough guy? You were a big shot in Battle City, weren't ya? Didn't you go around ranting 'bout how strong and powerful you were?" a greasy-haired man sniggered.

Ryou moved closer to Malik, placing a hand on the Egyptian's shoulder. "Don't listen to them," he said softly. "They don't know what they're talking about. And besides... they're probably all just jealous because they tried and couldn't make it to the finals themselves."

Malik let out a breath and nodded. "I guess so..." He agreed almost silently. "Do you think we should head somewhere else?" he asked just as quietly, locking his lavender eyes with Ryou's almond ones. His gaze lingered there for a moment, mesmerized by the faint hint of hazel sunburst around the iris, which slowly faded to a rich, deep brown.

Ryou shook his head. "I don't think we should have to leave just because they're jerks. Then again, I don't really want you wasting your money on people who are talking about you like that." He tucked a strand of silver-white hair behind his ear and looked back over at the other. "You decide. It doesn't matter to me. I already told you I'm not picky."

Malik shrugged his shoulders. He figured that anywhere they went he would be recognized, and he didn't really feel like dealing with that. An idea suddenly struck him, lighting up his lavender eyes.

"How about I make you dinner? We can go back to my apartment and I'll cook up something there," he proposed. "And, not to brag or anything, but it'll probably be better than anything these jerks could cook up here."

Ryou's mocha eyes widened slightly at the suggestion. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. He couldn't believe Malik was inviting him over, considering they barely knew each other and all.

"Uh... well," he blushed, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "If-if it isn't too much trouble for you," he said after a moment, a shy smile appearing on his face.

"Trouble? Naw, not at all, Ryou. It's absolutely fine with me. Unless of course you would want to postpone it to tomorrow. Maybe the weather will be nicer."

_Turn down the opportunity of making a new, handsome friend because of the weather? Not likely._

There were only a handful of times in the albino's young life that he could remember someone truly wanting to hang around with him, after all. Not to mention Ryou was a little tired of always eating dinner by himself.

"No, as long as it's not a problem for you then I'm fine with it. I don't mind the weather that much," he said honestly, his smile growing a bit. "If it gets really bad, we can always get a cab or something."

"Actually, I rode my motorcycle here – I was stupid enough not to consider watching the Weather Network before going out, so I had no idea it would start raining on me."

Malik laughed heartily at his own error as he made his way out of the restaurant. Ryou followed close behind him, hearing the grumbled insults of the men inside as they exited. He rolled his eyes, very used to hearing insults from ignorant people.

"So, you really have a motorcycle?" he asked Malik once they were out underneath the canopy again.

"Yep, I sure do have a motorcycle. And now to get to it, I guess we have to venture out into the rain again." he snickered, stepping outward from the awning and heading down the street.

"Must be nice. I have to walk everywhere," Ryou said more to himself than to the blonde, who had already begun to walk away. He didn't mind going places on foot, though a car would be a luxury that the albino wouldn't about if he had one. But, living only off of the checks his father sent monthly, a car was the last thing he could think about buying.

Hearing Malik call out his name, Ryou shook himself free of the thoughts and followed behind the Egyptian. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed a car heading down the street, but unfortunately Malik didn't see it – or the large puddle it was about to roll over – before it was too late and he was dripping with dirtied rainwater. Ryou burst out laughing, and to his delight Malik's deep laughter soon joined in.

"I guess today really hasn't been my day." he admitted, though he turned to Ryou and stated, "Although I did get to know you a little bit more, and that's definitely a good thing."

A blush spread across Ryou's pale cheeks at the comment. Mocha eyes quickly turned to the ground, staring at the pavement as if it were the most wondrous thing in the world. _He's glad that he got to know me a little bit more?_ Ryou felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach, and he fought the urge to smile giddily.

Once they arrived in the parking lot, Ryou brought his gaze back up. The lot was empty, with the exception of one sleek motorcycle, which the albino could only presume belonged to the Egyptian. He moved towards it, catching his reflection in the polished metal. He smiled.

"It's really something," he commented. "Looks like you take really good care of it."

"Yeah... She's my pride and joy," Malik said with a grin. "Hang on a sec, I think I got a spare helmet for you." He rummaged through the pack on the back of the Harley, and after searching a moment pulled out an old looking helmet. "I'll use this one. You can use the one strapped to the handlebar; it's probably a lot safer."

As instructed, Ryou took the helmet from the handle.

"Thanks," he said, smiling again as he placed it onto his head, fumbling with the clasp underneath his chin. It felt weird. He wasn't used to wearing these things. "I probably look ridiculous," he giggled at himself as he moved to stand beside the bike.

Malik looked at Ryou and smiled. "You don't look ridiculous at all. It really looks good on you." he assured.

He was about to strap his own helmet, but then stopped as he noticed Ryou hadn't strapped his own helmet correctly. Chuckling, Malik walked over to Ryou and came face to face with him, his strikingly beautiful purple eyes focusing on the tangle in the straps.  
"It takes a while to get used to these helmets, but you did a number on this one!" he teased, reaching his caramel-colored hands up to the straps at an attempt to untangle it.

Ryou almost took a step back since he wasn't sure what the Egyptian was up too, but he stopped himself as the other's hands took hold of the helmet straps and the other busied himself with fixing the mess Ryou had made out of them. Ryou stood rigidly still, his chocolate-brown eyes staring down at Malik's working hands. Every once in a while, he would catch his eyes wandering to his companion's slightly-parted lips, and he'd have to tear his eyes away quickly.

Face coloring in embarrassment, for more than one reason now, the albino apologized softly about the helmet, trying to get his mind off of how warm Malik's breath felt against his neck...

"S-sorry, I thought I had done it right, but... I g-guess--"

Malik's fingertips gently brushed against Ryou's chin unintentionally as he fumbled with the clip on the strap -- and during that split second, Malik felt a sudden rush of adrenaline flow through his suddenly stiff body.

Ryou appeared to be having a similar reaction to the touch. He knew it was an accident of course, but his heart still fluttered in his chest. Malik's fingers were rough, yet still gentle, and their touch caused his chin to tingle pleasantly. _W-why am I getting so worked up? All he did was touch my chin... and it was an accident, even._

"Uh... sorry, Ryou. It's fixed now," the Egyptian stuttered, finally untangling the straps in a shaky way.

Malik turned back to the motorcycle, laughing nervously, and mounted it while patting the back seat and looking at Ryou with a friendly smile. His hands shook with a sensation of more than one feeling. "Hop on."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ryou nodded, licking his lips nervously as he approached the bike once more. Brown eyes moved back and forth between Malik and the vacant seat behind him. His heart seemed to pound louder in his ears as he mimicked Malik's actions from a second earlier and got onto the back seat. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around Malik's stomach, knowing there wasn't really anything else to hang on to.

Ryou felt awkward, sitting on the bike like that with another guy - especially since the guy was a good-looking one. He nearly groaned out loud.

_I cannot be getting a crush on a guy I just met,_ he thought, closing his eyes. _..Malik would probably flip out if he knew I was thinking about him that way. It's not normal, after all. He'd probably ditch me if he ever found out._

As the motorcycle started, Ryou jumped, releasing a startled squeak. He pressed himself closer to Malik; his cheek touched against the other's soaked back, arms tightening around the Egyptian.

"It's hard to get accustomed to at first, but enjoy the ride. Just don't let go or you'll fall!" Malik teased over the roar of the engine, pulling out of the lot and driving into the semi-crowded streets.

Ryou gave a small laugh, but his insides were jumping nervously as Malik pulled out of the parking lot. He scooted forward so that his front was practically flush against Malik's back. It was a little uncomfortable, but he felt safer by doing it. Allowing his eyes to fall shut, the albino tried to tune out the fact that there was nothing separating him from the ground beside him, hoping instead to enjoy the ride as his companion had instructed him to...

* * *

**_To be continued..._**


	2. How It Was: Two

_A/N: Just a reminder, the sections that are all in italics are present-day Ryou's point of view. Everything written in the third person are events that took place ten years ago. Enjoy the chapter. And please leave a review, if you like. Contructive criticism is always welcomed and appreciated._

_Warnings: Shounen-ai (MalikxRyou)_

* * *

Malik's home was lavish, to put it simply. Ryou allowed himself to gape openly as he stepped inside the complex's top floor apartment. He felt as if he'd just entered one of those penthouses that were usually shown on television - the ones celebrities used as their vacationing homes. He looked around, admiring the interior design.

The walls were sponge painted a rich golden yellow, reminding the teen of desert sands. The strong scent of exotic incense permeated the rooms. Unlit, rectangular lavender candles were spread about randomly. There was a small carpeted staircase consisting of three steps that led down to the living room which, from where Ryou stood, he could see contained a brown leather couch and a decent sized television set. Directly ahead of where they stood was the kitchen, furnished with dark wooden cabinets and granite countertops. To the left there was a narrow hallway, most likely lined with doors leading to the bedrooms and bathrooms.

"You... you _live_ here?" he gasped, amazed.

Malik nodded as he took of his boots and drenched socks. Ryou hurriedly followed his example, leaving his wet shoes and socks by the door to dry, and then wiping his bare feet on the matt by the door.

"Sure do," Malik replied, "but just until I got back to Egypt--" He abruptly stopped, lilac eyes darting to the ground, which he studied as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

Ryou caught on, his disappointment shining through as he realized Malik wouldn't be living in Domino for very long. He had been hoping that he might actually have a friend who stayed with him for once.

"...I rented this only for a month... So when August rolls around I have to be out of here. I'll be going back to Egypt," he explained, voice dripping with guilt and regret.

_Why would he stay? He has no reason to,_ the white-haired teen thought, a strange gloom settling in the pit of his stomach._ Almost everyone in town has labeled him a bad guy or a cheater. Besides, he has is life in Egypt to go back to. He has family there – a life there.. He has no reason to stay in Domino..._

Ryou sighed, wondering why the thought of Malik leaving made him so depressed. _A month... that's so soon. I was hoping to at least get to know him, but I have hardly any time._

Brown orbs blinked as the albino realized that the other was talking again. Malik smiled over at him, pointing to the hallway.

"Make yourself at home, Ryou," he was saying. "My room is the first door on the left. Feel free to borrow something to wear, if you like. I doubt it's very comfortable in those soaked clothes. I'll be in the shower."

Watching as his companion left to take a shower, Ryou followed the directions and entered the first room on the left. The room was spacious, as he figured it might be, and the closet was large enough for him to actually walk in.

"I don't even know where to start," he laughed to himself as he stared at the array of shirts and pants of all different styles and colors before him. Reaching out, he fingered the material of the shirt closest to him. "I guess it doesn't really matter."

He plucked a plain navy T-shirt from a hanger and held it up to his chest. It seemed that all of Malik's shirts were around the same length - cut off to reveal a person's midriff. Sighing, Ryou figured he'd just go with it for now. He took a pair of khaki pants out of the closet as well and set them on the bed; then he quickly changed.

After he was dressed, he stared at himself in the full-length mirror. It only took him several seconds to decide that he definitely did not look as good as Malik would have in the clothes.

He decided to occupy himself by inspecting the rest of the Egyptian's room while Malik was still in the shower. He thumbed through some of the other shirts in the wardrobe, unable to keep from laughing as he noticed that his friend actually possessed more than one pink shirt. Growing bored of the closet, he moved on to wandering around the room, observing the little knick-knacks that decorated the room. A golden statuette of some Egyptian deity on the bedside table caught his attention, and he picked it up, looking it over with peaked interest before eventually losing interest and replacing it.

_Malik should be done by now,_ he figured, going over to the door. _He probably needs to change. _

Placing his hand on the doorknob, he turned and pulled the door open, about to exit the room -- only to be knocked to the floor by the force of someone running into him.

"Ow!"

Ryou winced, opening his eyes and looking up to see none other than Malik standing over him. Chocolate-brown eyes swept over the dark-skinned other, taking in the fact that Malik was still donned in nothing but a towel, which was wrapped loosely around his waist. Ryou's face heated up as he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the other's damp chest, watching as several water droplets dripped from the wet blonde hair and fell slowly down the other's sun-kissed skin.

Ryou wished for a moment that he could be any of those water droplets.

"R-Ryou!" Malik gasped, breaking the albino from his daze. "Oh, jeez, I'm so sorry! A-are you okay?" he asked, bending over and reaching out his hand to help his friend to his feet.

Ryou just stared at Malik's hand for a moment, his expression slightly baffled. He couldn't believe how bad his luck was. Or could this be considered good luck? Judging alone by how warm his body felt just by seeing Malik in his towel, the albino guessed it was a bit of both. His heart ached with a longing for... something. What that something was Ryou didn't know, but he had a feeling it had something to do with Malik and himself being completely naked.

_But... I-it isn't right. I can't be thinking about him like this. I barely even know him. And I'm sure he doesn't have any similar feelings towards me. He definitely can't... Besides, it could never work out,_ he told himself, trying to shake the not-so-innocent images from his usually clean mind. _He's leaving soon. We could never have a relationship - at least, one that lasts... and I want one that lasts._

Shaking his head, Ryou tried to push the thoughts aside. He grabbed Malik's hand, flashing him a smile of thanks, and tugged on the Egyptian's hand to try and push himself up.

The effort seemed to have the opposite effect, however, for instead of getting himself in a standing position, pulling on Malik's arm like that only managed to bring the Egyptian down on top of him, landing them in a rather compromising position.

Ryou sucked in his breath, closing his eyes tightly and trying to ignore the fact that one of his legs was wedged between Malik's legs. He was pretty sure his pale face was on fire. The albino tried to move his leg to free it, but stopped as his knee brushed against the Egyptian's 'personal area' and he heard Malik gasp in surprise.

They stayed like that for several moments, both blushing furiously and yet making no move to stand. After a while, Malik seemed to get a hold of himself and hastily scrambled to his feet.

"I'm sorry!" he apologized, clutching the towel around his waist, which had slipped down slightly during the fall. "Are you okay?"

Ryou nodded his head and stood up, knees wobbling beneath him and threatening to give out. He took several breaths and calmed himself down. Millions of thoughts swarmed in his mind, all of which revolved around the fact that he enjoyed the feeling of Malik lying on top of him like that.

Ryou mentally slapped himself for even thinking such things. He hadn't known that the small, barely even noticeable physical attraction he held for the Egyptian would multiply to an immeasurable degree in a little more than an hour. What possessed him to agree to have dinner with Malik in the first place? Ryou should have known luck was never this good to him. Whatever deity was up there was just toying with the albino now - dangling Malik right in front of him and, once Ryou tried to get close enough, yanking him away.

_It won't last. Nothing can happen between us... Even if I DID feel something down there -- it was probably just my imagination playing a trick on me -- but even if he DID have some kind of feelings towards me, nothing could happen. He's going back to Egypt, and I'm going to be here._

Ryou brushed imaginary dirt off of himself.

"I'm f-fine," he whispered, face still very red. "Sorry... I didn't mean to p-pull you down like that. I don't know my own strength sometimes," he attempted to joke.

The blonde cracked a smile, giving a small nod and clearing his throat. "...Um, I-I see you found some clothes," he commented, looking Ryou up and down, eyes shining in approval.

"Y-Yeah. Thanks for letting me borrow them," Ryou said as he looked down at himself, a shy smile appearing on his face. He still felt a little weird wearing Malik's clothes. Not to mention, he felt awkward with his midriff showing; he had always been self-conscious about his body - no wonder his other half called him 'woman' a lot.

"Well, uh, I think it would be time I got some, too." Malik laughed, trying to make the best out of the awkward moment. "Make yourself at home in the living room. Take a load off-- feel free to watch some TV or turn on some music."

With that said, the Egyptian backed up into his room, careful not to show his back to the other boy, something which Ryou found rather peculiar.

The albino shrugged it off and made his way into the living room, stopping to admire some books placed on a shelf, and then plopped on the couch. The remote was placed on the coffee table, and he picked it up, flipping the channels until he saw a movie about surfing. Ryou paused a moment, staring at the screen. There was a close-up of the surfer - a blonde-haired, blue-eyed guy. But the guy really wasn't what Ryou was thinking about. It was just the blonde hair, which was cut in a fashion like Malik's.

Ryou sighed, closing his eyes.

What was he going to do about Malik now? Ryou couldn't deny that he obviously felt more than just a small attraction for the blonde. It was like... a need. A _craving_. He wanted to feel Malik against him again, and have that towel gone away from the other's body. But _why_..? Why was he thinking that was about him? Why had he wanted Malik to kiss him so badly when he had been laying underneath the Egyptian?

He occupied himself with these thoughts until Malik emerged from his bedroom wearing a pair of stylishly distressed jeans, a black wife beater that was, of course, torn to reveal his midriff, and an unbuttoned khaki-colored over-shirt.

The Egyptian all but strutted into the kitchen, announcing that he was going to start dinner. Ryou followed him with his eyes, sitting up straighter.

"U-um... do you need any help?" he asked, looking for an excuse to be near the other.

"That's a nice offer, Ryou, but I think I'll be fine," he said as he rummaged through one of his drawers for a spatula. Picking it up, he turned to Ryou and shook it at him in mock threat. "Now, make yourself at home... or else," he teased, trying his best to keep a straight face.

Ryou laughed in appreciation of the joke.

"You can turn some music on, if you like," Malik suggested, motioning to the stereo in the living room.

Nodding his head, the albino moved over to it, picking up the remote and pressing the 'Track' button. Seconds later, low music filled the room with soothing melodies. Ryou grinned, unable to suppress a laugh as he set the remote back in its rightful place and moved to the entrance of the kitchen.

"I never would have pinned you as a jazz fan," he said honestly, looking the other up and down, pleased by the way the other's T-shirt hugged his well-muscled chest.

Malik smiled. "No one believes me when I tell them I like it," he replied as he reached into the refrigerator for a bag of lettuce, which he tore open and dumped the contents of into a large salad bowl. Next he grabbed a container of shaved carrots, which he sprinkled into the bowl as well. "I developed a liking to it a while ago," he explained as he glanced over to the white-haired teen. "What kind of dressing would you like on the salad?"

"I would have pictured you listening to heavy metal or something," Ryou laughed. "Oh, uh... it doesn't really matter to me. Ginger, ranch... it's all good. What kind do you have?"

The Egyptian checked the fridge. "Bleu vinaigrette, bleu cheese, and ranch. Take your pick."

"Ranch is okay with me."

"Ranch it is."

Ryou watched as his friend took out the selected dressing and began to pour it over the salad. The white-haired teen looked around, feeling rather useless. "Um," he began, scratching the back of his neck. "Do you want me to set the table?"

Malik lifted his head, flashing a smile. "Sure, that would be great. Thanks." He pointed to the drawer to his left. "Silverware is in there. Dishes are," he paused and indicated one of the cabinets, "up there."

The albino nodded his head, going to the cabinet first and taking out two plates before getting two forks and two knives from the correct drawer. He carried the dinnerware to the table and took a few moments arranging the plates.

Did he want to sit across from Malik or directly next to him? That question was answered in about two seconds - directly next to him, of course. Next, did he wish to sit to the right or to the left of the handsome Egyptian? Which angle would give him a better view?

_I can't believe I'm asking myself that,_ Ryou thought, hanging his head and placing his dish to the left of Malik's, setting the silverware down in the correct places.

"It's been a while since I've had company," Malik stated randomly as he stopped humming. "Actually, scratch that. I've never had company." He laughed. "I can't imagine why," he said in a sarcastic tone which indicated he knew very well why.

"I usually don't have guests over either. After what happened last time..." Ryou's voice trailed off and he blushed. Malik didn't know what happened the last time he had had friends over, and the albino really didn't feel like telling him in fear that he might freak him out. "N-never mind."

"Ryou..." Malik started, meeting the other's gaze. He could see it in Ryou's eyes, the same pain and loneliness that he himself had suffered every day of his short life.

There was so much the Egyptian wanted to say, but his expression showed that he really had no idea how to put his feelings into words that could console his friend.

In Malik's opinion, the last thing Ryou deserved was a lonely life. It made Malik angry to think such a gentle, hospitable person would be ignored and left alone. He clenched his fists involuntarily at the very thought, making the unbearable anger for the Pharaoh come shooting back. Not wishing to relapse, he quickly doused that hatred.

"Ryou," he repeated, stepping closer to the shorter male.

Whatever happened the last time Ryou had company, Malik could understand. He had suffered from an evil alter-ego as well.

"...You can tell me if you want. I won't get freaked out," he said, letting out a hollow chuckle. "I'm sure it's nowhere near as bad as the crap I've done." He finished making the salad and carried the bowl over to the table, setting it down. "But if it makes you uncomfortable, I understand."

Ryou wanted to throw his arms around Malik and hug him for saying such a thing. Malik wouldn't mind knowing, and he wouldn't be creeped out by it; there was someone he could confide in, finally. Instead of embracing the Egyptian - because the pale boy figured that doing such a thing really would scare the other - he settled for closing his eyes and inhaling the sweet, fresh scent of the other's clean hair as Malik walked by. Opening his eyes, he placed his hands on the corner of the table.

"It was a while ago... back when I first moved here. There were always... _accidents_ back home. Strange, unexplainable accidents seemed to follow me everywhere. I thought I was cursed... and that... that _I_ was the reason all these weird things were happening. I didn't want to put my family in danger... so I came to Japan. But the accidents didn't stop. Everywhere I went... _accidents_. Holes in my memory. I got so scared... finally I ended up here and-and I tried to avoid everyone. I thought that if I ignored everyone, they wouldn't bother to get close to me and I wouldn't have to worry about them getting hurt. And it worked for a while, I guess... but then I met Yugi and the others."

He sighed, brushing a strand of colorless hair behind his ear and tracing the smooth, polished wood of the table.

"They were so nice to me at first, and one day they wanted to surprise me by coming over to my apartment. That's when I first discovered the Spirit of the Ring's presence... he took over me and... and trapped all of their souls into game pieces. They almost died..._ I_ almost died. But... the Pharaoh won against the Spirit of the Ring, and we were all freed. Since then, though, I haven't had any visitors over at my place."

Ryou let out a dry laugh. "Can't blame them, of course." Shaking his head, he pulled away from the table, changing the subject. "W-where do you keep your glasses?"

Malik went and retrieved two glasses from the kitchen, setting them down on the table. He pursed his lips, trying to think of something he could say to make the albino feel better. In the end, all he could do was apologize for actions that weren't even his own.

"I-I'm so sorry, Ryou." was all Malik could choke out.

He had so many things he wanted to talk about when it came to their pasts. He just wanted to sit on the couch right that very second, with Ryou on his lap - holding him tightly and confiding all that he could in him. Swallowing an unwanted lump in his throat, he turned to Ryou.

"But... don't they understand that it wasn't_ you _doing that? The spirit is gone now. I just don't understand..." Malik whispered. He knew why no one contacted him since the finals ended, for he had done much worse things than what the Spirit of the Ring had done.

"He... I don't think he'll ever be gone," The albino said slowly, referring to the Spirit of the Ring. "He always finds a way back to me. They know it, too. That's why they stay away from me."

Wrapping his arms around himself, Ryou shook his head again. He felt so depressed now; all he wanted was for Malik to hold him. Blushing at the thought, the albino stole a glance at the Egyptian. His heart sunk as he realized how selfish he must sound. Malik was in a parallel situation as himself, and yet Ryou never really heard him complain about it.

He wondered if he was annoying Malik... If Malik just thought of him as a bother. Ryou hoped not. He liked to think Malik felt something towards him - friendship, or maybe even more than that

Malik brought a water pitcher to the table, filling up both of the glasses. He then cleared his throat and looked at Ryou with determined lilac eyes.

"I swear to the Gods, Ryou," Malik vowed, his voice firm with restrained anger. He approached him and placed a hand on his exposed shoulder, enjoying the soft warmth of Ryou's skin under his fingertips. "I'll do whatever I can to get that Spirit away from you. I know what its like," he continued, breaking eye contact and reluctantly sliding his hand off Ryou's creamy white shoulder. "...to feel that way. My darker half is gone for good now, and I'm sure there is a way to get rid of yours."

He smiled, forcing himself not to stare at Ryou's prettily shaped mouth any longer than necessary. "I'll help you... I'll do whatever I can. Because I know what the pain is like. I'm a friend to you, Ryou."

* * *

_And that's all it took. Those words... as soon as he said them, I knew. I knew that Malik Ishtar was the only one for me – the only one I could ever love. We were destined to be together. He understood me, understood the pain I had suffered all my life. He went through it all, just like me. _

_That's all it took. That simple promise of, "I'll help you." Of, "I'm a friend to you." The look in his eyes... the determination I saw there. He really made me believe in it, in that promise. He really gave new life to my hope. _

_I wasn't the same after that point. I had fallen, and each of his actions and words only dragged me down deeper. And I didn't want to pick myself back up. I liked the feelings being around him instilled within me. I liked the excited fluttering of my heart that was brought on by each glance in my direction. I liked warmth that rose to my cheeks each time he spoke my name. _

_I guess I just couldn't help myself when I kissed him. I remember, I'd made a comment about how charming he was and how, back in Egypt, the girls must have been all over him. After that he got embarrassed, and admitted to me that it wasn't like that._

"_I'm not like other guys," he'd said. "I guess I just realized... I'm not like other guys."_

_He was just like me. I wasn't the only one. He'd gone through everything I had. If he wasn't my soul mate, I didn't know who was. _

_I just leaned in. "I'm not like other guys either." And then I pressed my lips against his. _

_It was the first of many kisses - and certainly the sweetest with its innocent timidity. _

_I doubted myself. Of course I doubted myself. What if my actions had been too forward? What if I was looking too much into things? Just because Malik had the same sexual preference as my didn't mean he was actually interested in a relationship with me. I began to panic inside, fearing that my kissing him might lead to the end of our newborn friendship. _

_To quell my fears, he kissed me back. It was like heaven. I even told God – I'll never ask for anything again. _

_I was a very naïve boy, as you can see. That first kiss started it all – our relationship, and all the misery that came with it. _

_But I wanted so hard to make it work. I believed so fiercely in us... in our love for each other. But I suppose no relationship can last when only one person thinks that way._

_I should have known sooner. There were so many odds against us. We were a homosexual couple living in a world that generally frowned upon serious same-sex relationships. We had no chance from the start._

_But I still had my hope. I still had that innocence in me._

_... Sometimes I find myself dwelling on what my life would be like if he was still a part of it. If he hadn't left me... Where would I be now? Would we still be living on that house by the beach? Would I be happy? Loved? Fulfilled? Or would I have just wasted more time?_

_I don't know. It gives me headaches to think about him, most of the time, so I try not to. But that's impossible. One never forgets their first love, after all._

_Their only love._

_Of course I still think about him. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't. He was my first love... my only love. And as much as I hate to admit it, I still love him deep down._

_I don't think I can ever forget... The littlest things bring back the strongest memories._

_I'll pass a museum, or see something having to do with Ancient history, and I'll recall how, after he departed for Egypt after that one month expired, I went after him. Caught the earliest flight I could and followed him all the way to Cairo. Boy was his sister surprised when she came home and saw us kissing in her kitchen. _

_I was so devoted. Couldn't he see that? I would have done anything for him. I did all that I could for him, to make him happy. I gave him all that I had! And yet... and yet, somehow, that still wasn't enough to satisfy him._

_I did not understand. Waking up to an empty bed. Discovering only a note taped to the front door. What had I done wrong? _

_The weeks we spent in Egypt were pleasant. Every day I learned something new about the culture and the people there. Malik taught me how to say things in Arabic, and despite how ridiculous I sounded the first few times I tried piecing words together, I actually caught on to the language rather quickly. He would take me out to eat, and together we'd explore the ruins that currently weren't under excavation. At night we would lie on the flat roof of his house and stare up at the sky, pointing out shapes and patterns the stars made and kissing when the mood was just right. There was lots of music in the village, even late at night; sometimes we would dance together on the roof, careless of any weird looks we received. I loved it. I loved him, more and more, with each passing day. _

_He didn't want to stay in Egypt long. Too many bad memories. He wanted to go somewhere new, somewhere exciting. England, he'd suggested one evening as we lay underneath the moon blanketing glow._

_

* * *

_

"Let's go to England, Ryou."

The albino blinked his eyes, cocking his head back to give Malik a questioning stare. "England?" he repeated, a slight uneasiness to his tone.

Malik nodded his head, shifting Ryou so that they were facing one another directly. "England. You lived there as a kid, right? You know English. I learned it when I was young. We can go there... All we need is a place to stay. It will be perfect."

Ryou looked away. "What's wrong with Egypt?" he wanted to know. "I like it here."

A quiet sigh escaped the blonde's slightly parted lips. "I know you do, Ryou, but... don't you understand? This place is filled with so many horrible memories. Each day I'm forced to relive my childhood... Each time I see my brother and sister I'm forced to remember all the awful things I did to them. Don't you see? I want to be somewhere where those memories can't touch me. I want to start over. With you."

"B-but, Malik... England... there were so many things that happened..."

His voice trailed off as Malik's lips covered his own. The Egyptian brought his hands to rest on either side of Ryou's face.

"Hey," he whispered, lips still against Ryou's. "Hey... I know it will be hard to start over. But we can make it. You and me, we're strong together. We can make it." He lowered his head to gently nuzzle the other's neck. "And think about it... We'll be living together, alone... We can be like this, all the time."

Chocolate-brown orbs slipped closed as Malik kissed him again. Ryou was silent for several moments before he whispered, almost inaudibly, a response.

"We have... a summer house in England. It's still belongs to my family."

Malik smiled and connected their lips again in a kiss much more heated than the last few. They were going to England!

* * *

_**To Be Continued

* * *

**_


	3. How It Was: Three

_A/N: This chapter was actually ready last week, but due to some problems on the site I was unable to upload until now. Bummer. Um.. This is a short, transitional chapter. Again - everything in italics is Ryou's point of view and everything in regular font is a flashback in the third person. ) This installment is the conclusion of the three-chapter prologue (How it Was). The next chapter will be a brief reprise from a point of view other than Ryou's, followed by the beginning of the actual story. _

_Just as a warning in advance -- Ryou is very OOC in this chapter. But keep in mind how much time has past; he's bound to have changed quite a bit from when he first started dating Malik._

_Warnings: Shounen-ai (MalikxRyou); Prostitution _

_

* * *

_

_We went to England – like he wanted, and I dreaded. I suppose it wasn't so bad for the first month or so. We did the usual things couples did: he met my father; we rearranged things in the house so that it suited us better; we went shopping together; we laid out by the beach after sunset. It was nice for the first month. _

_But then we started school. Everything changed after we started school. I was normal, but he became a different person once he arrived on school grounds. He wanted to fit in with the popular kids – was willing to do anything to fit in with them, even if it meant pushing me away and making fun of me behind my back, like the rest of the student body. _

_And I didn't even try to put a stop to it at first. I always tried to make up excuses for him, like – it's his first time going to a real school, or he's just trying to live his life. When the attitude he carried at school followed him back into our home, and he started distancing himself from me even there, it became increasingly difficult for me to keep defending him. _

_I don't want to get into too much detail. As you can imagine, this wasn't the best time in my life. But I will tell you this: He ended up betraying me. Twice. And yet, both times, I gave him another chance – because I was so desperate to keep him with me, I loved him so much. Another chance, another chance - always another chance. I gave him so many chances to prove himself, and every time I thought he was serious, that he really did want to make our relationship last, he reverted back to his cruel and selfish ways. _

_Another chance, another chance... _

_I gave him so many chances. What did he give me in return? Love? HA! I was the only one that ever loved in that relationship. _

_Oh, sure, maybe he said the words, but they were hollow – insincere, empty. Perhaps he meant them the first one or two times he spoke them, but after that, "I love you" just became a vehicle for sex. I had a weakness for those three words, and he knew it. Whenever he spoke them, whispered them into my ear, I melted – became putty in his hands, and put up no fight against whatever he wanted to do to my body – because he loved me, or he said he did. _

"_I love you."_

_I said it every day to him, many times a day, and I meant it every time I said it. _

_I love you._

_I **love** you._

_I love **you**_.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_**Ryou,**_

_**Things aren't working out.**_

_**- Malik.**_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_But I love you!!_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Malik blinked, before laughing.

"No you don't." he replied surely, looking at Ryou with now sparkling and positive lilac orbs.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_He thought it was a joke, my love for him. I thought it was a joke, finding that note taped to the front door. I started laughing when I first saw it; I thought he was pulling a prank on me. I searched the whole house for him, and only after I discovered that our shared closet had been emptied of his clothing did the realization of the situation set in. _

_That was it. The final betrayal; the one I couldn't give another chance to make better. The end. The end of our relationship, but not the end of my love for him. _

_I'd never cried so hard in my life. _

_Malik transferred schools. I didn't see him around town very often, but when I did I noticed he was always accompanied by a tall brunette teenager far more attractive than me. There were rumors at school saying Malik had moved in with a guy from a neighboring school – that they were going steady, and had been for several months. _

_It'd been going on right under my nose and I hadn't noticed. I was still blinded by my hope while he was screwing someone else – probably under my own roof, too._

_I moved in with my father, unable to stand living in the house Malik and I shared due to the memories – pleasant and unpleasant – lurking around every corner. The house sold almost immediately; the memories moved with me to my father's house. _

_It was just before my high school graduation when my father got sick. I came home from school one day to discover him collapsed on the ground, unconscious. The doctors said it was a heart attack, but upon further testing discovered it was something much worse – hypertensive cardiomyopathy, a disorder of the heart due to untreated high blood pressure. _

_He would need to be hospitalized and regularly monitored, for there was a high possibility of the condition worsening. _

_I couldn't leave him alone during his time of need. He was my father. I didn't care how many schools had accepted me anymore – I denied them all. I was going to take care of my father, the last person I had left in the world. _

_To please my father, who was so disappointed in me for not going to college, I enrolled in a community college and took morning classes several days a week. And I got a job working on the janitorial staff of a nightclub. It didn't pay much, but all the proceeds went to my father's medical bills because I didn't want him spending his life's earnings. _

_It was on cool February night, about nine months later, that my life changed forever. _

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

"Psst! Ryou! _Ryou_!"

The white-haired teenager paused in his work and looked up as he heard his name being loudly whispered. By the front entrance of the club he noticed a girl with synthetic purple hair standing in the doorway, waving her hand in a beckoning manner. She, Miho, was a work-friend of his. A work-friend – a companion at work, but not really a friend.

Ryou blinked and set down his wet rag, making his way over to her.

"What is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as she grabbed on to his arm. "I... I'm not finished 'till twelve."

"Shh! Follow me," Miho ordered, leading him out the door despite his protests.

"What? _Why_?"

"Just hurry up. There's a limo waiting. You can make a hundred bucks in half an hour!"

Chocolate-brown eyes widened and a confused frown appeared on the pale teen's face. Miho dragged him down the street. Parked at the end of the lane, as promised, was a sleek black limousine.

Miho walked up to the left rear passenger door and tapped on the window. It rolled down, and whoever sat inside exchanged several words with her before rolling the window back up. Giving a satisfied smile, she waved Ryou over. Hesitantly he came to stand beside her.

"Get in," she instructed, just as the door opened. "You can thank me later."

In spite of his better judgment, Ryou slid into the vehicle. Miho didn't follow. The door slammed shut and the limo sped off towards an unknown destination – which later revealed itself as the most prominent five-star hotel in town.

Before stepping out, he was presented with a change of clothes – for, according to the man in the car, a custodian uniform did not flatter his figure. These new garments, however, revealed everything worth revealing in the most elegant of ways.

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

_I was taken to the top floor – the penthouse suite. Waiting in the room already was a boy slightly older than myself, donned in clothing much more masculine yet just as licentious as the abomination I had been forced into. He wasn't exceptionally handsome, but he was a god compared to the man seated on the bed beside him. _

_The second man was dressed in nothing more than a silk robe. His thinning salt-and-pepper hair was combed back in the fashion typical of an elderly rich man and from his lips dangled a lit cigar. He smirked at me as a stepped forward. I knew as he patted the mattress what Miho had gotten me into – what I supposedly would thank her for later. _

_The elderly man, who was a quite wealthy and well-known business tycoon, wanted to watch me and the other boy have sex, and then he wanted to have sex with me. There was no room for argument. I couldn't very well tell him that this was all a mistake, that I was tricked into being there. I could only do as told. _

_I cried at first. Of course I cried. I cried all the way home, in the taxi my first 'client' paid for. What had my life become? Here I was, whoring myself. I would certainly go to hell, and I hadn't even wanted to go through with it in the first place._

_Later that night, alone in bed, I contemplated it. Was it really such a bad thing after all? I was out of there in less than an hour, with more than a hundred dollars in my pocket. And I hadn't even needed to do anything. All I needed to be was a doll, a puppet that they could do whatever they want with. Just had to lay there, doing nothing... feeling nothing. _

_It was the easiest money I'd ever made in my life. Much easier than scrubbing toilets or washing tables at a disgusting club._

_And the best part - no-one else had to know about it. I could do this secretly. Tell my father I'd gotten another job to earn more money; he'd never suspect anything. So what if it was shameful? It was the closest thing to love I'd ever get. And it paid. _

_Besides... I make a good puppet. By that point I was already used to going through the motions of love without receiving any. _

_Sex was meaningless. Love was meaningless. _

_You might think it's pathetic, but it's my life. It's the path I've chosen. _

_That's how I officially began my _other _job. _

_But, you know... I think it started even before that night. _

_I think it started with a note taped on my door._

_**Ryou,**_

_**Things aren't working out.**_

_**- Malik.**_

* * *

_A/N: Now honestly -- who was expecting THAT? Heheh. As I said before - Ryou is very OOC in this fic (at least right now. Hopefully that will change..) Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Happy belated Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrated it! Please drop a review. Constructive criticism is always welcomed and appreciated. See ya next chapter!_


	4. How It Was: Juxtaposed

_A/N: Another very, very short chapter. This one is in Malik's POV, just so you all know. Please R&R!! _

**

* * *

**

_**July, 2016**_

I always wanted to do something with my life. Something big. I knew I was better than the life I was born in to, you know?

When I was little I had the same farfetched goals as every other child – to be rich and famous, but more than that I desired the freedom to do whatever I wanted when I grew up.

My childhood was... complicated, to say the least. I won't go into detail about it – I doubt you'd understand – but I will tell you that I was very sheltered as a child – I guess you could say I lived in a bubble up until my pubescent years. My father and I didn't get along well. In fact, at certain points in my life I was able to convince myself that I hated him. He died when I was around twelve, due to circumstances of which I'm still uncomfortable talking about.

As a teenager, newly released from the bubble of my innocent childhood, I developed a thirst for movement and adventure. I was daring and bold, fearless when it came to trying new things – clothing, food, even drugs. I'll admit that for a majority of my adolescence I was involved with the wrong crowd, pushing for the wrong dreams. By the time the epiphany came to me that I was wasting the best years of my life I was seventeen, alone, and in a city far away from my homeland.

I wanted to start over. And I got that chance when I met him. Well, technically, we'd met before... but, again, that meeting was back in the dark days of my life.

We became immediate friends and, soon after, more than friends.

I know that I loved him, at one point. I mean, we shared a life together. We moved away and started a new life, overcoming all the many odds against us – and believe me when I say there were very many odds.

It was difficult, being with him. The first few months were wonderful, of course, as they are in every relationship. But... I don't know... after a while we began to drift apart. We both changed during that period, me more than him. I became overwhelmed by the need to fit in with the crowd that I completely pushed him away, disregarding his feelings, lying to him, breaking dates and constantly disappointing him.

I remember I hit him. It was only once, but I still remember the look on his face – crushed, heartbroken look.

But that didn't end anything between us. In fact, after that, I was so horrified with what I had become that I did a one-eighty and adjusted my personality altogether. I was a better person and our relationship blossomed all over again. He confessed to me that he loved me. I knew I loved him back... but I was scared. I said the words, of course I said the words, but each time I said them the fear inside of me grew.

There fear of being tied down, of my freedom being taken away from me – my freedom that I yearned for ever since I was a small child, my freedom that I cherished. I couldn't bear the thought of love getting in the way of me living my life to the fullest. Living in a bubble, growing up with my father who I hated, I had been denied a normal childhood. I didn't want to be denied anything else as long as I lived.

I was afraid, so afraid, that love would deny me life.

Each time I told him I loved him the words lost a little bit more of their initial truth, until finally it became a big, fat lie.

Don't get me wrong – I still cared about him, still wanted to make him happy. I still enjoyed spending time with him, and God knows the sex was always bloody terrific. But our relationship had lost that initial spark, that passion that made it worth fighting for.

He tried... he tried so hard to reignite it. And he may have succeeded eventually, had I not turned my focus elsewhere.

I know it was mean and selfish, but I couldn't help myself. I had a few private flings behind Ryou's back, all of which he was blissfully unaware. At one point I even had a steady boyfriend behind his back. But I got tired of being disloyal. I hated sneaking around. And as much as I knew it would hurt him, I knew I had to leave him. I couldn't lie to his face anymore, or see his crestfallen face every time I told him I was going home and wouldn't be back till late.

Maybe he did know? Maybe he knew all along and was just pretending not to – pretending to be oblivious, just out of the hope that I wouldn't leave him if he remained ignorant of what was really going on.

I don't know. But I did know that I couldn't stay in that house with him any longer.

I left a note taped to the front door. Set out on my new life, without him.

_**Ryou – **_

_**Things aren't working out.**_

– _**Malik **_

I think about him sometimes. I'll notice something that will trigger a memory of our relationship, or spot someone that looks similar to him. I wonder in the back of my mind from time to time: what if I run into him one day? What would I do if I saw him walking down the street?

But things like that don't happen in real life. Chances are, I'll never see Ryou Bakura again.

Even if, now, I kind of want to.


	5. How It Is: Chance

_A/N: Happy holidays, everyone!!! Here is first chapter of the second half of the story. It takes place several months after the first-person narratives. _

_Note: Italics are thoughts. _

_

* * *

_

_How to Save a Life_

**PART 2 - - - HOW IT IS.

* * *

**

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
**_The only way to feel again is to let love in.  
_- - Goo Goo Dolls (Let Love In)  
**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

_**  
November, 2016**_

Just a typical day.

Kissimmee Park was bustling with citizens of all different ages. The afternoon sky was pale gray - though not blearily so, as the sun still poked out from the clouds to brighten spirits. Snow fell at irregular intervals; currently flurries drifted down from the heavens, melting before they received the chance to touch the ground. The bare limbs of the trees creaked as the wind blew gently against them.

A tall, slender form stood on the shaded sidewalk, one hand buried into the left-side pocket of a designer black coat while the other gripped a piping hot cup of coffee. A stylish mop of hair swished to and fro with each graceful step of the figure – a young man, no older than twenty-nine.

Under the flickering city streetlights the flawless, sun-kissed skin of his face shimmered. His cropped hair, however, was a startling contrast to his beautifully natural skin shade and the mixture quite a sight to be hold – for it was extremely light. Blonde, though not exactly blonde – for it was certainly not a shade that could simply be bought in a tube.

The tone was a sand color; the sort of sand that basked endlessly in the proud Egyptian sunlight. And when the sun hit it at just the right angle it shimmered like the finest quality gold. Cut stylishly in thin, face-framing layers and glimmering in the afternoon sunlight, any passerby could easily tell the man took great care in keeping the tresses healthy.

Even more spectacular than his hair were the man's eyes. An unnaturally beautiful amethyst color sprouted like a morning sunburst from the iris and slowly faded into a pool of lilac. Able to penetrate a soul with even the slightest of glances, the twin orbs seemed to intoxicate everything and everyone they landed on. They stood out even bolder (as if the color alone was not enough) thanks to an intriguing kohl pattern jutting outwards from the lateral tip of each eye. The eye paint swooped out darkly and then dented back in slightly – hiding from the world one of his many secrets, scars from his childhood.

His cheekbones were genuinely high and sharp, forming his face in the perfect shape that wealthy people across the world paid thousands of dollars in order to attain. They were tinted prettily with the chilly wind's touch, slightly rosy even with that gorgeously bronzed skin covering his handsome face. Firm full lips pursed slightly, evidence that many deep thoughts occupied the man's mind.

His shoulders and torso, clad in a crimson sweater under the thick and long black coat, were broad and muscular – indicating a fit and healthy body lay underneath the garments. Moving downward, a leather belt peeked out from the hem of the sweater to hold up a pair of khaki cargo pants. An expensive-looking pair of black motorcycle boots prodded boldly out from the pants as he shuffled down the street absentmindedly, looking about the park and taking in the first signs of winter.

Still lost in his musings, the young man lifted the neglected (yet still steaming) cup of coffee to his lips and took a savoring sip. Almost immediately afterwards, a pink tongue shyly poked out and ran smoothly across his lips to wipe away the evidence of the caramel macchiato before retreating back into that luscious mouth again.

He nodded politely at two young women making their way past him. They paused to stare at him as he continued to walk, both blushing furiously at the privilege of being granted attention from the god-like man. The waved weakly at his retreating back before hurrying along their way, whispering excitedly to one another.

Malik Ishtar was perfect.

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
**_You smile, hiding behind a God-given face.  
_**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

Just a typical day.

Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary – at least, not for the slim figure briskly making its way down the street. The figure was male, but could easily be mistaken for the opposite gender due to the natural curvature of his body. His perfectly tapered waist only served in accentuating his hips, which were already wider than the hips of a typical man.

Long legs covered by a tight black fabric moved hurriedly back and forth, taking the boy – he must have been a boy, judging by the youthfully round shape of his face – where he needed to be on that chilly day. The pants revealed his legs as almost unnaturally slim, similarly to the way the disgustingly overlarge sweatshirt obviously concealed his emaciated torso and arms.

His skin was pale, almost deathly so, but anyone who asked received the response that the color was what the boy had been blessed – or cursed, depending on the viewpoint – with at birth. This fairness only made him seem more feminine, and almost unreal – more porcelain, fragile, youthful, like a divine goddess of some unknown religion.

The boy's face appeared healthy, even if the rest of his body did not. Youthfully round, as stated before, with traces of baby fat still evident. His cheeks were aglow with a pretty blush thanks to the nip in the air, and his dark chocolate eyes reflected the multicolored Christmas lights decorating the surrounding trees and buildings as he passed them. Thin, petal-pink lips gently parted, releasing a puff of white air every few seconds as he breathed.

Crowning his head was a halo of silky-soft silver-white hair, which blended in perfectly with the falling snow around him. The colorless locks framed his face angelically – making him seem even more ethereal – and touched down to the center of his back.

Though he looked perfect, Ryou Bakura, in many ways, was anything but that.

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
**_And you stand there – a frozen light in dark and empty streets.  
_**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - **

Just a typical day at work.

Copy orders, run them back to the kitchens. Serve the food; make small-talk with the customers – smile at their jokes, their pathetic attempts at flirting. The same routine as always.

"_May I help you?"_

"_What can I get for you?"_

"_What's exciting at the bar that I can offer?"_

Giggle at their stories, blush at their compliments - but _do not_ overindulge.

Ryou memorized it long ago.

He'd been working at the upscale Italian bistro for almost a year now – hired right away; the boss said he was a natural people person. He received a decent pay, thanks to the generous tips of his happy customers. He liked his job and, furthermore, he liked the restaurant; it was one of the nicer places he employed himself in quite some time.

On this particular night, business teetered on the slower end of the spectrum (season would not start for another week or so) but the restaurant remained alive enough to keep him constantly moving. Back and forth he traveled from the kitchen to the center dining room, serving his assigned tables – twenty-two, twenty-four, twenty-six, twenty-eight, thirty, thirty-two – and mopping up spilled drinks whenever the busboy happened to disappear on 'break'.

His current consumers ranged from an easy-to-please elderly couple and kind-hearted single mother and her two children to a shameless trio of teenagers (one boy, his girlfriend, and another girl) who each took every available opportunity to hit on him. His shift ended in twenty minutes (eight-thirty) leaving him an hour to get to his next workplace and change into his uniform.

"Hey, Ry" – the addressed waiter shuddered (as he typically did) at the abbreviation, earning a puzzled glance from his co-worker – "Something's wrong with one of the meals at twenty-two. They asked me to get you."

Ryou turned his head to glimpse the aforementioned table, seeing the single mother waiting patiently. He sighed and nodded. "Thanks Dane," he replied, slinging the black tray under his arm and sauntering over to twenty-two. He mustered his best smile as he reached the table. "How is everyone so far? Good?"

"Actually," the woman started, "I ordered this pasta with no mushrooms. And as you can see" – she paused to gesture towards her plate to indicate the problem – mushrooms which were not supposed to be there.

Petal-pink lips pursed apologetically. "I'm terribly sorry about that, my lady. Pardon my reach," he said, taking her plate. "I'll just take that back to the kitchens. They'll make you a new one."

"Sorry... I know it must be an inconvenience on you."

Ryou flashed a winning smile, almost swearing that she turned her head in order to hide a blush. "Don't you worry about it; it's no inconvenience. My customers deserve the very best – I won't settle for anything less than that for them."

She laughed softly. "You're too sweet."

"You're flattering me." Ryou looked over to the kitchens. "I'll be back soon with your mushroom-less meal. My apologies for the mistake."

Again she chuckled. "Not a problem."

Ryou let his façade slip slightly as he turned his back on her and made his way back over to the kitchen. Chocolate-brown eyes darted to the nearest clock. Ten minutes left.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Ryou delivered the bowl, explaining the problem to one of the chefs – who nodded in understanding and set to work on preparing another dish. From there Ryou went to pick up the next set of meals for one of his tables – the group of teenagers. He balanced the three plates on the black tray, setting the side of the tray opposite of his opened palm on his shoulder, and made his way into the dining room to deliver.

As he began to walk away he glanced behind him for a moment, thinking he heard a familiar voice, and blinked when he saw someone he both recognized and, at the same time, did not recognize.

Standing near the door of the kitchens, shaking hands with the restaurant manager, was a tall, dark-skinned male appearing no older than twenty-eight. Silken locks of bleach-blonde hair framed his face, cropped to his shoulders.

At first, the white-skinned male thought it was a one-time customer from his _other _job. But then he caught sight of the maybe-not-a-stranger's eyes.

Angled lavender orbs took in the kitchen atmosphere, and underneath each eye there was a distinct kohl-lined scar.

Ryou felt his knees go weak.

No way.

It couldn't be.

_No! Nonononono! _

It just... couldn't be.

But it was. Malik Ishtar was shaking hands with the manager.

Ryou tripped over his own feet, loosing his footing and crashing into the waitress in front of him – sending three plates of food crashing to the ground around them and landing the white-haired man on top of the poor girl.

Several people gasped and rushed over to help pick up the mess. Ryou declined the arm offered to help him up, standing on his own. His mocha orbs immediately found Malik's lilac ones, and he swallowed hard as he noticed a look of recognition cross the Egyptian's still-handsome features. And then, to his horror, Malik excused himself and began making his way over to the waiter.

Panicking, Ryou did the only thing he could think of – run. Run away.

He quickly turned on his heal, ignoring the mess he had caused, and sprinted away from the scene. He could have sworn he heard a masculine voice calling out his name, telling him to wait, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. There was no way he was ready. Even after all these years he was still incapable of facing Malik Ishtar. After all the heartache, the indignity, and the misery the Egyptian put him through there was just no way in Hell Ryou could handle seeing him – speaking with him – after such a long and inexcusable absence.

Several moments later found the waiter locked in the handicap stall of the men's restroom with a wad of toilet paper compressed tightly in his fist. Tears poured from the corners of his eyes, sluicing down his face; his nose began to run as loud cries tore from his lips. Memories flooded his mind – memories he tried so, so hard to repress throughout the years.

_Why? _

He sniffed, raising his hand to his face and blowing his nose into the crumpled toilet paper.

_Why am I crying so hard? I hate him..._

Wiping fiercely at his eyes, Ryou attempted to take control of his breathing – failing miserably in the end.

_What have I done to deserve this?_

Despite his retching sobs, Ryou still managed to overhear the sound of the bathroom door swinging open. Heavy shoes – boots, most likely – thumped across the tile. Ryou sucked in his breath, not daring to make a sound in hopes of keeping the new arrival oblivious to his presence there.

The room was silent. And then:

"...Ryou," a low, masculine voice said hesitantly.

The white-haired man bowed his head, more tears escaping his clenched eyes.

_Why me? Oh, God... Why are you punishing me? _

"Ryou?" Malik tried again, his concerned voice echoing through the bathroom.

Ryou dropped his makeshift tissues, curling his fingers into his hair and shaking his head back and forth slowly, trying to convince himself that this was not happening – it was merely his imagination playing a cruel joke on him; Malik Ishtar was not standing outside the bathroom stall, calling his name, after all these years.

Malik Ishtar didn't care enough to seek him out. Didn't care enough... to love him. Malik Ishtar left him – left him without a word, without a reason, without a second thought.

Malik Ishtar... Ryou Bakura did not – _could not_ – love Malik Ishtar.

_I hate you... _

_I **hate **you..._

_I hate **you**. _

"I know you're in here."

Ryou sniffed and took a deep, shuddering breath. Head still bowed, eyes still closed, he mustered up his courage to reply. "G-go... Go away."

"Come on, Ry..."

At the nickname, Ryou flinched and felt his throat tightening – a precursor of the upcoming onslaught of tears.

He was closer now.

Cracking his eyes open slightly, the waiter spotted black boots beneath the cutoff of the stall door and he gave another small cry, twisting his hands in his colorless hair.

"Go away," he repeated, voice a little firmer than the last time, yet still wavering. "Please, for the love of God... l-leave me alone."

The bathroom was silent for a few moments, with the exception of the whimpers and cries Ryou fought so hard to subdue.

Malik sighed loudly and the door of the handicap stall creaked under the weight of his body as he leaned against it heavily.

"Don't be like this..."

The tears ceased their running and chocolate-brown orbs opened wide in surprise. Ryou swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling anger bubble over the sorrow.

How dare he? Really – _how dare he_?

After all he had done to him, Malik Ishtar actually had the gall to accuse (albeit indirectly) Ryou of overreacting. Well Ryou believed he had every right to overreact and demand the Egyptian leave him be, considering the circumstances of their relationship's end.

Waking up to an empty bed... just a note taped to the door. Impersonal... as if Malik wasn't even sorry. As if Malik didn't care at all... And he didn't. Did he? He never did... How could he have done that if he cared – if he loved him?

Ryou had every right to cry – to scream, yell, curse. He had the right to feel contempt, resentment, and_ hatred_ toward Malik Ishtar. If he wanted to ignore the Egyptian's presence altogether, he could; he had every damn reason to.

In his mind, Ryou sometimes found himself mulling over what he would do if he ever ran into his ex-lover. If he ever saw Malik again... sometimes he pictured what the situation would be like. And in his mind he always pictured himself landing a punch right on the Egyptian's perfect face – and it would feel so, so good when, as he held his throbbing fist and watched the skin around one of those perfect lilac eyes darken with a bruise, he screamed what exactly Malik Ishtar should do with himself.

_Lying bastard... go to Hell! _

And now, now that he had the opportunity to live that fantasy, he could not bring himself to even move. The rage boiled inside of him, urging him to _do something_, yet he could not even rise from the toilet seat.

"I hate hearing you cry... I've always hated it."

Ryou begged himself not to fall victim to the line. Malik Ishtar was a charmer – always had been and always would be; knew the right things to say to touch a person's heart so their defenses would fall. But not this time. No, no... Never again would Ryou fall for those lies.

_Then why do you always make me cry?_

"Ryou... please... Come on."

_...Do you know? I gave up my whole life._

Gathering his strength, Ryou shakily rose to his feet; he's knees wobbled uncertainly underneath his dead weight. Slowly he moved to the door, leaning against it, his forehead pressed against the painted wood. From the way Malik's feet were positioned, one could tell he was standing the same way. One of Ryou's trembling hands moved to rest against the door, over where he guessed Malik's hand rested on the opposite side; he could swear he felt the familiar warmth of Malik's hand in his own.

"Ryou..."

Could Malik feel it, too? Their hands...

_...For what? For what?_

Overcome by a sudden urge that he couldn't explain, Ryou suddenly stepped back and unlocked the door. It swung open and revealed a handsome, well-built blonde man who looked so different from and so much similar to the one from the whitenette's memories. The past came back to life, Ryou's heart beating irregularly fast, as the Egyptian took a step forward.

_...For you._

Without thinking, the pale-skinned waiter launched himself into the dark arms he'd missed for so long. Fresh tears spilled from his red-rimmed eyes as he clung to the other man, burying his face in the long neck. A pair of strong arms circled around his waist and Malik Ishtar said not a word as the smaller sobbed his heart out.

_...Do you know? I never stopped loving you.

* * *

_

_A/N: Reviews inspire me and make me happy. Happy New Year, everyone! _


	6. How It Is: Typical

_Whoo... this took me forever to get an idea for and write. But here it is! The next chapter!_

_Happy 2007, ya'lls. _

_

* * *

_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_We used to have this figured out; we used to breathe without a doubt.  
_-- Daughtry (Used To)  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_...Do you know? I never stopped loving you._

The left shoulder of Malik's fitted crimson sweater was thoroughly soaked with tears in a matter of seconds thanks to Ryou's inconsolable sobs. The Egyptian continued to hold the smaller male, the expression on his face revealing that he was anything but comfortable at the moment. Still, despite the awkwardness, Malik kept his arms around the narrow waist of his former-lover, holding the shaking man and whispering little nothings into his ear in hopes of making him feel better.

"It's okay... It's okay..."

Ryou shook his head back and forth, his fingers digging into the fabric of Malik's shirt. His words came out as incoherent mumbles.

Malik sighed, rubbing his hands up and down Ryou's back almost robotically. "Ryou, come on. Stop crying now. You're breaking my heart."

Another practiced line – another sweet phrase to hook him in. And Ryou was just about to fall for it, the tone of the Egyptian's voice was that persuasive. The fraction of his mind that was not overwhelmed by the confusion of seeing Malik Ishtar after so long seemed to be the only part of the young waiter to recognize this. Luckily, this reasonable side was strong enough to surmount the irrationalities.

Ryou's hands clenched into tight fists before releasing Malik's shirt, and he pushed himself away from the Egyptian. Mocha eyes stared up at the taller man in quiet disbelief.

"I'm breaking your heart? _I'm_ breaking _your_ heart?" he said, finding the idea absolutely ludicrous.

Seeing the error in his words, Malik quickly tried to cover up the mistake, beginning to stutter out a response only to be silenced by Ryou hysterically yelling for him to shut up.

Without thinking twice, the white-haired male raised his arm and greeted Malik properly with a ten-year belated slap in the face. The sound of his palm connecting with the perfectly tanned cheek resonated throughout the bathroom – an impetuous _crack_ that briefly swelled Ryou's heart with pride.

Malik blinked, having trouble comprehending what just happened. Skeptical lavender orbs stared down at the smaller male in shock. Ryou, getting over his moment of smug satisfaction, seemed both surprised and awed over his own actions, as he was gazing in wonder at his hand, mouth forming an 'O'.

As the realization sunk in - the stinging sensation finally making itself known in Malik's cheek - the Egyptian growled lowly and made to strike back.

A sudden image came rushing to the forefront of his mind. He was sixteen, standing in the hallway of his old high school, with Ryou backed against the lockers holding his cheek and crying so, so hard...

"_Malik, you're hurting me!" _the meek voice of a teenaged Ryou cried.

"_Father, you're hurting me!"_

Malik gasped, recalling an incident in his childhood when his very own father beat him. Lavender eyes lowered to stare at the ground and gradually the man brought his arm back down to the side, unable to act upon the urge to fight back. Instead, he took a step closer to the waiter, causing Ryou to blink up at him in a manner similar to a frightened animal.

Ryou, overcome by a sense of dread, took a step back – only to be stopped as a hand shot out and grasped his upper arm, preventing him from moving. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he made to say something. Softly he apologized, not quite knowing what else to do.

A warm hand cupped his cheek, a calloused thumb brushing away the tears staining the immaculately pale skin. Ryou sniffed and hesitantly raised his eyes to lock with the breathtaking lavender orbs he still adored.

_... Why'd you have to come back?_

They were silent for several moments, just gazing at each other with a mixture of different emotions – fear, regret, sadness, anger, concern, confusion, devotion.

Malik's hand remained on the other's smooth face, gently caressing the petal-soft skin and every once and a while daring to brush his fingers across those thin rosy lips that had been missing his touch for ten long years, while his other hand slid down to Ryou's narrow waist to keep him close.

Ryou, seeming unconfident, kept his own arms down by his side; his breathing calmed for the most part.

Malik smiled – that perfect, charming smile that could make anyone (man or woman, young or old) blush. Ryou's cheeks reddened involuntarily and he looked away hastily, ducking his head in order to hide the evidence of his embarrassment. The perfect smile widened a fraction; Malik rubbed the other's hip affectionately.

_... How...?_

The waiter's heart fluttered in his chest, breath catching in his throat, and leant closer to the Egyptian – falling victim once again to the all-too familiar touches; Malik Ishtar possessed an irresistible charm that even Ryou could not fight against no matter how hard he tried to.

_... How can you do this to me?_

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
**_And I want you to be there, 'cause I miss the things that we shared.  
_**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

Ryou sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, his wearing eyes staring uncertainly up at the arched sign in front of the park. Half shrouded by vines the faded black letters spelled out 'Kissimmee Park' – as did the crumbled piece of loose-leaf paper held in the white-haired man's trembling right hand.

"_Meet me at Kissimmee Park at seven,"_ Malik's strong voice, laced with a watered-down Arabic accent, resonated through Ryou's mind.

Standing on the walkway leading into the park, Ryou envisioned himself in Malik's arms. Those protective, warm arms. The previous evening Malik held him for almost an hour, waiting patiently for all of the waiter's tears to subside.

Gently, so gently, the dark full lips had pressed a tender kiss to his brow as the embrace was finally returned. At some point during the comforting process, the pair wound up on the bathroom floor, Ryou practically in Malik's lap, their faces close together close enough to allow them to feel the other's breath wash over their lips.

"_I've missed you,"_ Malik had realized after a minute or so of staring into the waiter's chocolate-brown eyes.

Ryou hadn't said anything for several moments, allowing a silence to settle between them before breaking it again. _"...What are you doing here?"_ he'd asked the Egyptian, their lips millimeters apart as he spoke, sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. What if Malik kissed him, right then and there? Kissed him passionately and laid him on the floor and made love to him right then and there in the men's bathroom?

But, alas, Malik had only said he missed him... not that he still loved him. Though, by the closeness of their bodies, one could presume otherwise.

Ryou mentally berated himself for even thinking such a thing. They were not lovers. After so many years, they could not even be considered friends any longer. They were just... two people who knew each other from high school, meeting up after a long time. And Malik's comforting him... well; it was a basic humanity to feel the need to comfort those in need of condolence.

"_Why are you here?"_ he'd asked, after he'd managed to push himself away from the blonde.

"_Meet me at Kissimmee Park... in front of the swings... I'll tell you everything."_

Long, slim legs guided the twenty-seven-year-old down the cobblestone path. Doe-brown eyes darted around the area in desperate search for the familiar head of blonde hair, the memory of the previous evening – and all that had been left unsaid – still fresh in his memory.

Nothing.

Sighing again, Ryou moved over to the swing set and heavily situated himself on one of the rubbed swings. Frail hands gripped the chains attached on either side of it and he used his feet to slowly move the swing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

In the recesses of his mind, the white-haired predicted that he would be stood up that evening – but he never allowed it to get to him; he attempted to remain optimistic despite the fact that the situation seemed hopeless. During their chance meeting after ten years, Ryou had come across as a blubbering fool, an emotional wreck – not the ideal first impression; honestly, Ryou didn't blame Malik for standing him up – he would have stood himself up too.

Back and forth, back and forth... The repetition was beginning to annoy Ryou. Disappointment began to melt into frustration.

_Why couldn't he just be honest? _He wondered, releasing a whistle of air. _If he never wanted to see me again, he could have just said so. It's not as if I would have forced him into meeting... I didn't even want to see him that night; I tried to get away from him. And I only agreed to come here because he asked me. I should just leave. Who cares if he shows up and I'm not here? Serves him right. I had to wake up to an empty bed._

Making up his mind with a firm nod of the head, Ryou stood from the swing, fully intent on leaving Kissimmee Park that very instant. However, before he could release the metal-linked handles, a larger, warmer pair of hands settled over his own. Ryou froze in place, staring wide-eyed straight ahead of him.

How had he not noticed Malik's presence sooner?

"Need a push?" the Egyptian asked. Ryou could tell he was smiling even though he could not directly see the other's face; he could just feel it.

Wordlessly, the young waiter lowered himself back into the swing. "... Malik," he whispered.

"Didn't think I'd come?" Malik chuckled, letting go of his ex-lover's hands and giving the swing a light push.

"Honestly? No, I didn't."

"You should know I wouldn't stand you up."

Ryou lowered his head, watching the snow-speckled dirt beneath the swing blur together as Malik continued to push him. The words caused a surprising pang in his heart. He wondered how the Egyptian had the audacity to say such a thing to him, after what he had done – after how he left.

Pale fingers gripped the painfully cold chains, knuckles turning a pinkish white color. Ryou brought his feet down to stop the swing in motion. Malik blinked, startled, and edged closer.

"Ryou?"

The whitenette was silent for a moment, causing Malik to become even more curious. Puzzled, he walked around the swing so that he now faced the other, kneeling down so he could be at Ryou's eye level.

"Ryou, what's--"

"How?" Ryou interrupted him.

Malik noticed the thin form had started shaking, the chains rattling slightly as Ryou gripped them so tightly with his trembling pink-white fingers. Malik once again placed his dark-skinned hands over Ryou's, this time as an attempt to calm the older male.

"How can you say things like that to me?" the whitenette wanted to know. "How can you come up to me... talk to me... t-touch me... as if... as-as if nothing ever happened? How can you pre-pretend that we're friends?"

Malik carefully considered his words, not wanting to say anything rash. But he didn't quite know what to say. Truthfully, he never expected to run into Ryou when he came to this town; he hadn't even thought it a possibility. Of course he did want to see the young man – he thought of Ryou quite often, wondering what it would be like if somehow the two of them ever hooked back up after all these years. But seeing Ryou the previous evening at the restaurant came as a complete surprise; he was unprepared, and knew not how to deal with the other male. He figured approaching him as merely a friend would be the best way to go about things. After all... why couldn't they be friends? They used to be such good friends; they shouldn't let conflicts of the past get between that.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, the Egyptian inquired, "Aren't we?"

Ryou's head snapped up, his mocha orbs staring straight into the perfect lavender orbs with incredulity. Malik could clearly see the tears lining his eyes, threatening to overflow at any given moment.

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head vehemently as if that could physically remove the prospect from his mind. "No, we're _not_ friends, Malik. How can you even think such a thing? You especially, after what you did... How could you ever think I would consider you a friend after you left me like that? I mean... you just _left_... no warning, no explanation... not even an apology."

"Ryou, you don't understand... I had to leave... I-I was too scared... That was my first serious relationship and things were just moving too fast for me..." Malik's voice trailed off.

Ryou didn't give him a chance to realize the error in his words this time around.

"Too fast for you...?" the whitenette repeated, his voice very still and quiet.

Despite the cold air around them, Malik felt a trickle of sweat slide down his neck.

Again, Ryou repeated the words, his frame growing rigid. "Too fast for you? Well, Malik it was not too fast for you when we first made love, was it? No, no... Of course not. You wanted that – you initiated that. But a deeper relationship... I guess you didn't really want that after all. I guess asking for something more – love, commitment ...I guess that was asking too much from you. I guess _that_ was moving too fast."

Closing his eyes, Ryou took a deep breath. Then he pushed Malik away from the swings, not caring as the Egyptian fell back onto his butt. Raising himself to his feet, he shot the blonde a fierce glare – all feelings of earlier giddiness buried in his mind as he allowed the hurt and the pain he'd kept suppressed for so long to finally overwhelm him completely. Had Malik been standing up beside him at the moment, the whitenette had no doubt in his mind that he would have socked the prick right in the jaw.

"I just... I hope you know... it's not even your leaving me that hurt me so much, Malik," he said, the angry tears leaking into his voice, causing it to crack slightly.

Malik stared up at him, too stunned to say anything or even move from his position on the ground.

"Just... just knowing that the whole thing was... was nothing more than a _lie._ That you used me... that I _let _you use me..." He let out a long, heavy sigh, brown orbs falling shut once again; a strong sense of shame filled him. "That hurt more than anything."

Silence fell. Malik couldn't say anything to that; anything he said would be untruthful.

Slowly he rose to his feet and took a cautious step towards the whitenette. Ryou flinched as Malik placed a hand on his supper arm, attempting to lurch away from the contact. But Malik moved to grip both of his shoulders and pulled him close so that his back pressed against the Egyptian's torso.

Ryou couldn't help himself; he started to cry.

Malik's arms wound around his shoulders loosely and the dark-skinned male buried his face in the back of Ryou's long neck. Silken strands of silver-white tickled his nose but he didn't dare move from this position, less Ryou break away from him.

"Let go..." the waiter was sobbing pathetically. "Please let me go... just leave me alone... leave me alone, Malik..."

But Malik couldn't. Part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted nothing more than to walk away and never come with in a one-hundred mile radius of Ryou Bakura again. And yet, at the same time, he wished to never let go of the small, shuddering body.

To his own surprise, the Egyptian found tears spill over the rims of his eyes – Ryou's sadness having rubbed off on him. He squeezed the thin male tightly, nuzzling his neck and shedding tears into his colorless hair.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Ryou. I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you by it," he said, and that was the truth. "I didn't think... I didn't even think of what it would do to you. I thought... I thought it would be easier for both of us if I didn't draw it out. If I just left... maybe you could forget me easier."

Ryou sniffed, bowing his head, bringing his hands to grasp the finely-muscled arms around his neck. "How could I forget? How could I ever forget? I loved you so much, Malik... so much. I would have done anything for you. I gave you all that I could. Why-why wasn't that enough for you?"

"It was enough. It was enough, baby."

The whitenette's cries only seemed to grow harder at the old pet name.

"Then-then why did you l-leave me?"

Malik shook his head. He continued to nuzzle the other's neck affectionately, hoping to bring comfort to the distressed male. "I... I already told you. I was scared. I was scared of being in such a long-lasting relationship. I was scared... something would happen. Things would change. That, somehow, I wouldn't be free anymore because of it. I... I didn't want to lose my freedom."

Ryou was hardly even paying attention to the words being spoken. He continued to sob, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, turning cold after a certain amount of exposure to the crisp November air. He turned in Malik's arms, burying his face in the broad chest and wrapping his arms around the other's neck.

"I loved you..." he whispered, voice muffled do to his mouth being pressed against the Egyptian's collarbone. "I loved you... I still love you."

Malik's body stiffened. Uncertainly he tightened his grip around his former boyfriend.

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
**_And you're sad, 'cause you miss the love that we had.  
_**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

He left for work a few minutes early that day. Malik had offered to drive him – turns out he never outgrew his motorcycle fetish, and he now owned the newest model of the one he had cherished when they were teenagers. Vehemently Ryou denied the offer – never wanting Malik Ishtar with his perfect life and perfect handsome body to discover where his only-perfect-looking ex-boyfriend employed himself after sunset.

Slightly disheartened that his offer had been rejected, the Egyptian hailed the whitenette a cab in compensation.

"I'll see you around?"

Ryou looked at him longingly but did not make any effort to respond, only climbed into the back seat of the cab and closed the door in the Egyptian's face. The taxi pulled away from the curb. Ryou could hear an accented voice calling his name.

Resting his forehead against the window, his red-rimmed eyes closed to the world, the whitenette tried not to think of anything during the trip downtown.

The taxi screeched to a halt in front of a small, rundown building labeled by a tawdry neon red sign – _Room21_: _Adult Entertainment._

The cab driver sent a leering grin in Ryou's direction, seeming to guess the whitenette's line of business. The brown-eyed male ignored it, no longer up to flirting even if it meant losing a possible client. He merely tossed several bills in the man's grubby hands and exited the vehicle, making his way into the already crowded club via the back entrance.

"Evening, Vivian," he greeted softly as he passed a busty young black-haired woman on the way to his dressing room.

"Ryou!" Vivian ran over and hugged him, nuzzling his neck. "Oh, duckie, you look awful!" she exclaimed as she pulled away and took in his ruffled appearance. "Have you been crying?"

Ryou was quick to deny it. "N-no, I... of course not."

The bloodshot eyes proved otherwise. Vivian sent him a sympathetic smile, hugging him yet again and gently demanding that Ryou told her his dilemma.

The whitenette shook his head negatively, breaking free of the embrace. He wiped at his eyes frantically to rid his face of the tears. "N-nothing... Just... Something at work," he half-lied.

Vivian made a sound of comprehension in the back of her throat. "Did the restaurant let you go?"

"N-no, not exactly... But I-I think I'm going to have to quit."

"Why? I thought you liked it over there."

Ryou sighed, not exactly prepared or willing to retell the story – especially to Vivian, who (as she was unfamiliar with the story of Malik Ishtar to begin with) would need to be told the crisis of his first and only love.

"Things aren't working out," he said, voice hollow.

The words brought with them a fresh onslaught of tears for some reason unknown to the female dancer. She looked over at her dance partner, red-lined lips set in a concerned frown. "Oh, Ryou…" she brought her arms around his too-thin waist, squeezing him in what was meant to be a comforting manner. "Don't worry... I'm sure everything will work out for you. You can always take more shifts here if you want. You know Alistair loves you – if it was up to him, you'd be entertaining twenty-four-seven."

"I know, Vivian, I know. I just..."

The light voice trailed off, Ryou's mocha orbs falling to stare at his feet. He didn't want more shifts at the club. He hated working so many shifts as it was – hated the immoral, disgusting acts he performed on a nightly basis, hated the looks his customers gave him, and (most of all) hated the immense feeling of shame that overcame him at the end of every day.

Ryou was just so sick of it all. He was so sick of this life.

But this was the only way... And sometimes it wasn't too bad.

The men who paid for him every night treated him as if he were a divine deity, fallen from the heavens. He was their treasure. They worshiped him, paid for him – for his company. And no matter how much Ryou hated performing the services that came with his company, he couldn't help but feel a little happy at the same time – for he knew that, even if only for a one night stand, someone wanted him.

No... He could never quit his job at _Room21_. This profession chose him, not the other way around. Pleasing people... It was the only thing Ryou knew he was actually good at; he'd never be able to survive anywhere else.

Softly Ryou whispered, "I need to go get ready."

Vivian nodded her head and pulled away. "I'll meet you on stage," she promised, kissing his cheek before making her way towards her own dressing room.

Ryou entered the third door on the right – designated by the small strip of purple paper as his own private room. He locked the door behind him and then set to work on changing into his custom-made dancing outfit.

Every week, Alistair (his boss) presented both him and Vivian with new, typically matching costumes. That particular week was Arabian themed, and his clothing consisted of a long sheer powder-blue skirt with a slit that ran all the way up to his thigh and a matching headdress and veil, accompanied by an assortment of jewelry – golden bangles on each of his wrists, a navel ring for his bare torso, and gold anklets on his shoeless feet. It was one of the more modest attires.

After fully dressed – though what he wore actually did not fully cover anything – Ryou spent several long minutes gazing into his reflection in the mirror over his makeup counter. Disconnected brown eyes stared back at him, causing the entire appearance of the beauty in the mirror to become rather lifeless. Even the perfectly applied smudges of rouge on each of his glowing white cheeks did nothing to regenerate the alluring sanguineness that normally made up his aura.

Delicately he picked up the eyeliner resting on the fake white marble countertop and uncapped it. Raising the pencil to his powdered face, he set to work on drawing applying it, not even paying attention as he continued the daily routine. As he set the eyeliner back down on the counter and glanced back up at his reflection, however, he realized that subconsciously he had drawn a familiar pattern under each of his eyes.

For a moment, Ryou felt as if Malik Ishtar's eyes were staring back at him, with those kohl-lined scars.

He left his dressing room, not bothering to wipe the design away.

Vivian was waiting for him in the hallway, and tilted her head to the side in confusion as she saw the crude patterns on his eyes. She raised a questioning eyebrow, but Ryou ignored it – not wishing to explain himself, considering he knew not the reason behind his own actions. Vivian took his hand and led him to the small stage set up for them.

Music was already playing, men and women of different nationalities and ages already gathered by the ledge expectantly, drunk and awaiting the start of the next show.

Ryou took a deep breath and stepped out under the lights. Hands grabbed at him. Eyes burned into his pale skin.

Just a typical day.

* * *

_Ugh. I absolutely hate this chapter. It was awful to write... I was totally clueless as to how to finish the bathroom scene with Ryou and Malik. I liked the park scene, but that's about it. The rest of it is crap, in my opinion. The next chapter should be better - though I do warn you, I shall be introducing two Original Characters that will be crucial to the storyline. Don't let that scare you away, though. They're not Gary-Stues, I promise!!_

_Anyways... you see that little purple button down there? Yeah, well... I think you should click it. And leave me a nice review to inspire me to update soon. :) Thanks. _


	7. How It Is: Room21

_I would like to thank my roleplay partner Kipcha, who plays Garrett's character and wrote the totally awesome first and third scenes of this chapter. If you like those scenes, be sure to thank her. _

_Warnings: I think I might have to raise the rating of this fic to M, because of this chapter. There's nothing extremely sexual about it... but I'm still a little worried._

_Please enjoy the chapter! I really like this one...

* * *

_

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
I stumbled up the stairs to room 21.  
_-- Hinder (Room 21)_  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

The city welcomed Garrett Sullivan with open arms.

Brimming nightlife and the sudden free, untamed rapture of not having his spouse-to-be breathing down his neck took over the twenty-six-year-old. His fiancé was out of town for the week, visiting family – which meant that Garrett was granted a full seven days of freedom.

A full seven days to do something he always secretly wanted to, but was never actually courageous to go through with until that very night.

And that one deep desire was to get piss drunk and have a one-night stand.

He was dressed for such an occasion, too. Tight black pants snaked down his shapely, skinny legs. A black leather jacket billowed in the winter breeze, unzipped to reveal a low cut shirt – that, too, black. It was all topped off with a studded belt and loose gray tie, giving him a sexy, sort of 'I could care less' look that could drive anyone – male or female - wild.

Dark eye makeup surrounded emerald orbs, making him appear more hardcore than he was in actuality.

Only one thing adorned his person that really should not have been there, considering where he was currently headed, and that was his engagement ring. It curled around his pale finger possessively, unable to budge from the bony finger of its chosen owner. But showing his devotion to another was something Garrett didn't really feel weird about, especially if he was just going to have sex with a stranger he was likely never to see after this night.

His destination: An upscale dance club? A sport's bar? Nope – even better than both of those combined. Garrett had his destination decided as soon as he found out his significant other was leaving for a week.

Sure it was disloyal, but what his fiancé didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The location for Garrett's long anticipated party night was a mediocre bar and strip joint. He and his boyfriend had gone once and got completely smashed, of course screwing like bunnies after they got home.

But this time around, Garrett wanted something new – something different, exciting.

He wanted a whore.

Just for one night. He wanted to see what it was like, the thrill of disobedience and disloyalty. Being stuck on an invisible leash to another, especially for almost five years (It would be their five year anniversary of dating in another month), grew boring and tiresome to Garrett at times. Sure, the sex was terrific, and he loved his boyfriend so, so deeply… But regardless of all that, he still had the desire to be with someone else – someone who was not expecting commitment or anything long-term. Just for one night.

And his feet led him up the stairs and into a club by the name of_ Room21_, located in the less prominent area of the city. It wasn't run down or anything of that nature, though it could use a good cleaning up. It was just... average, for lack of a better word.

He entered the doors and was greeted by pounding techno rhythms. At least ninety or so people crowded the dance floor, surprisingly not taking up that much space. Others swarmed the bar or gathered by the stage, watching, mesmerized by the erotic movements of the paid club dancers and strip teasers, in cages suspended on the ceiling, or on long poles that came down from it.

Garrett's lips parted and he muttered something inaudible before being shoved aside by a crowd of rowdy girls. He ignored them and headed over to the bar by the stage, somehow locating an empty barstool.

"Hey sexy, what can I getcha tonight?" a tacky looking girl asked, wearing a transparent shirt that easily showed her 'goods' to the indifferent gay man. He looked at the small drink menu and sighed.

"I guess an Orange Cosmo on the rocks." He replied. The girl jotted something down on a slip of paper and said she'd be back with his order in about ten minutes; they were busy, after all.

Sighing again, Garrett nodded and swung around on his barstool to get a look at the stage, which was occupied only by scantily clad women (all appearing older than himself) moving suggestively against one another to the pleasure of the drooling middle-aged men below.

Emerald orbs narrowed in distaste.

This was not nearly as fun as he thought it would be.

The redhead looked around some more, expecting too much to be disappointed this quickly.

He did a double take as something caught his eye.

There he was. His fluid movements immediately magnetized the previously uninterested redhead, drawing him into a trance-like state which rendered him unable to do even the simplest of actions, such as blinking.

The young male's body was curvy – curvier than that of an average man's. His legs were sinewy, and his chest free of blemishes, and other, more private body parts were suggestively revealed thanks to the exotic, custom-made costume barely covering his lean form. A long, untamed mane of wild silver hair shined like the midnight moon, literally glowing in the black lights scattered around the dance floor and stage. His skin was smooth and pale, glistening with a thin veil of sweat and body glitter.

Garrett's jaw dropped at the sight.

This dancer was gorgeous.

He only had a few people crowded around his area of the stage, and they were mostly squealing girls and a few young men who were quickly running out of money after throwing it all on the platform on top of which the entertainer performed.

His movements were so rhythmic to the booming electronic music, and Garrett couldn't help but arch his neck to get a better view. A few pieces of jewelry decorated the beautiful individual, including a silver chocker, an anklet, and earring hooked in his right ear. The redhead didn't dare blink, fearing that missing a single movement of the one before him would deny him access to seeing him at all.

Someone took occupation in the seat beside him. A voice spoke smoothly to him, but the redhead hardly noticed – for he could focus on nothing other than the vision of white upon the stage. All he knew was that it was definitely a male speaking to him in a rather derogatory tone.

Agitated at having his visual fantasy disrupted, Garret may or may not have responded in a snide voice – disagreeing with what the man had said or making a bet, or something else along those lines. Whatever he said caused the man to fall silent. The waitress appeared, holding a glass in her hand which she set upon the counter after her arrival.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_And she left me craving more.  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Alexander Tetsuo was what most would refer to as "new money". His father had struck it rich in the stockholding game and, when the bastard croaked, left all of his acquired millions to his only son (aged twenty-two at the time). Since then, Alexander – or Xander, as he preferred to be called – enjoyed the lifestyle of the rich and famous - splurging his inheritance on mansions, sports cars, vacations, and other such things. But he was a good man deep down. Self-indulgent and egotistical, but a good man deep down.

Afforded with his French mother's charming good looks, Xander was oftentimes considered a god amongst mere mortals, and a blessing to women. With his sleek blonde hair, piercing light blue eyes and handsomely masculine build, Xander had the appearance to melt the heart of any girl he wanted.

But he didn't want just _any_ girl.

Like everything else he possessed, he desired the best. Only the best – both attractive and personality -wise – would make a suitable spouse for this stubborn man.

He'd tried dating the upper-class women, who had enough money to make themselves beautiful. But they lacked personalities, and so were each tossed in a matter of days. The middle-class girls were plain in both aspects. The poor were lively, but so hideous that he refused to consider marrying one even as a charity case to boost his image.

No. None of the girls in London tickled his fancy. In fact, no girl in his life had ever remotely caught his interest. Sure, there were women he considered beautiful. But he never experienced any sort of real attraction when in the presence of members of the opposite sex.

So he moved on, in search of something new. Something exciting. His journeys took him away from London, to a smaller city where there existed one of his summer homes. By this time he was already thirty and his body begged for a physical connection with another human being. In his desperation he found himself seated in a corner booth of a remote bar and strip club, with half-naked men and women viewable from every angle.

_On stage two girls danced erotically, flashing private parts of their bodies to the salivating row of customers before them. _

_Xander turned away from the show, uninterested in cheap classless whores, and noticed he was no longer alone in the booth._

_Situated directly across from him was a lean, pale-skinned figure donned in the revealing uniform custom to each of the waiters. Xander could only tell it was a male due to the lack of breasts on the other's plainly viewable chest._

_While the newcomer was silent, Xander took the opportunity to allow his eyes roam across the delectable body - starting from the chest, taking in how the skin was so colorless that it almost glowed, and noticing how soft in texture in appeared. Next he moved up to the boy's swan-like neck, feeling a strange desire to bite into it as he observed the young man's Adam's Apple bob with a swallow. _

_The boy's face was cherubic-like in his innocence – Xander had to wonder what such an angelic face was doing in a hellhole like this place –with big chocolate eyes and long dark lashes that caressed his round, rose-tinted cheeks every time he blinked._

_The boy's thin, glossy lips parted as he finally turned his attention on Xander, giving a promising smile._

_"You're not having very much fun," he detected in a voice rather feminine for a man. His hand moved to cover the older man's larger, darker hand. "Would you like me to show you a good time?"_

_Xander's eyes widened as it occurred to him that the angelic youth before him was, in actuality, a prostitute._

Prostitute or not, there was something in Ryou's - the boy's name, as he later learned - smile that caused Xander to accept the invitation. And even though Ryou had taken to him as a customer, Xander could never in his mind equate Ryou – beatific Ryou with his colorless splendor and gentle persona – with the other cheap, classless whores he'd seen in the bar. Ryou was different, special. There was something buried deep in those mocha orbs that told he didn't want to be there, living that life; that he needed to be saved from that lifestyle.

And as the years passed – and he was thirty-four and Ryou twenty-seven – Xander decided he would be the one to save Ryou. He thoroughly convinced himself Ryou was a damsel in distress, and he was Ryou's night in shining armor – sent to rescue the beautiful boy from his sorry life of prostitution and poverty.

Gradually over time, the two had become very close. On evenings when Ryou was not working, they typically went out for dinner, and Xander usually paid for both of their meals unless Ryou put up a fight. Oftentimes they went to lunch or the movies, and they were open to each other with just about everything. Ryou told him secrets, confided in him about things he never told anyone else and in turn Xander was rather honest with Ryou.

Same-sex marriages were legal nowadays, and for the past few months, Xander had been debating when and how to propose to Ryou. He had to marry Ryou. There was no one else in the world he would even consider as a possible candidate for his future spouse. Ryou was perfect – beautiful, intelligent, submissive... just _perfect_.

He would ask Ryou to marry him, somehow, and he knew already that Ryou would readily agree. After all, there was no way the whitenette wished to remain a prostitute the rest of his life. Xander could offer him everything he ever wanted – love, money, fame. All Ryou had to do in return was be loyal to him, and only him. Ryou would never disagree to his proposal.

_Room21_ was rather crowded that evening, more so than usual. Pushing through the throng of sweating, scantily clad club-goers, Xander made his way over to his usual booth to watch Ryou dance.

The silver-haired angel was already on stage, performing with his dance partner Vivian. Xander ordered a beer and turned back to the show, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and following Ryou's sinuous movements with half-lidded blue eyes. Sitting at the stool directly across from his booth, a man with outlandish red hair gawked openly at the stage.

Taking a sip of his beer, Xander pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the bar to take a seat at the empty seat beside the redhead. The man didn't even turn to look at him, so absorbed was he in watching the dancer.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" Xander spoke first, indicating Ryou.

The red-haired man seemed reluctant to pull his eyes away from the stage but he did, just so as not to come across as a complete jerk. "Yeah," he said absentmindedly, focusing on the dancing once again, though he continued to talk to the other man. "What I wouldn't give to get into those pants..."

Xander's eyes narrowed as he took another swig of beer. "He's too good for you. You could never afford him."

The man faced him briefly before snorting. A devilish smirk appeared on his pale face. "Wanna bet?" he asked.

Before Xander could answer, a busty waitress came over and handed the man a drink. To Xander's vexation, the redhead immediately inquired about Ryou. The blonde tuned him out, fixating his eyes on his love. Ryou continued to manipulate his body to the rhythm of the music, swaying his hips gracefully and tossing his head back and licking his lips suggestively.

"That's almost twenty-five hundred for twenty-four hours..."

Xander's head shot up, his stupor broken, and glared over at the redheaded man. For a moment, the other male caught his gaze and sent him a superior smirk.

"Sure, if you're that horny and rich..." the barista commented.

"Which I am."

Xander fell into a brooding silence and stood from the bar, storming back over to his booth. The man couldn't possibly request Ryou for an entire day. Ryou would never agree to that.

For six songs Ryou danced, his body glistening under the flashing lights with sweat and glitter. His long, silky hair fanned about his head like an angel's halo as he moved. When his time ended, he winked at the small gathered audience and turned to go backstage.

"Wait—Ryou!" a voice called, stopping the dancer in his tracks.

Xander stood quickly, eyes narrowing as he noticed the same redhead he had been conversing with at the bar now hovering by the ledge of the stage, his emerald eyes wide and eager as he called out to Ryou.

"I want you!"

Xander felt the usual pang of jealousy in his chest as he moved closer to the stage, close enough to hear the conversation with the two. This always happened whenever Ryou picked up a new customer. Xander detested, absolutely _detested,_ Ryou's profession. Now that he planned on marrying the whitenette, he despised the fact that Ryou's being a prostitute meant that other men besides himself were afforded the pleasure of sleeping with him. It made his blood boil, just the thought of Ryou looking at another man.

Ryou disappeared behind the stage, the red-haired man following shortly afterwards.

Xander couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe Ryou actually agreed to spend a whole day as someone's whore. Ryou had never done that; usually three hours was the unspoken time limit the whitenette never went over.

...And on top of that, this was supposed to be Xander's night with Ryou. Tuesday evenings were reserved, for Xander always treated the white-haired man to dinner before.

The blonde-haired man slowly dropped back to a seated position, feeling strangely numb. He hated not being able to stop Ryou from seeing clients. It wasn't as if Ryou was committed to him yet; Ryou was still employed at_ Room21_, and so was expected to go through with the duties required of him.

Xander took his time with finishing off his beer, mind plagued by thoughts of Ryou and the red-haired man. He was too frustrated to even pay attention to any of the other dancers on stage – not that he really wanted to; they were nothing compared to the spectacle of Ryou.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_I swear to God you'd feel the same if you got used by what's-her-name.  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Here's your drink; it came sooner than I thought." The girl giggled at Garrett, whose back was towards her.

"That one," Garrett said suddenly, speaking over the music, paying no attention to the arrival of his drink. "What's that one's name?" He never took his eyes away from the sexy dancer.

"Hmm..? That's Vivian."

"No. The boy," He growled.

"The one with the silver hair? Oh, he's Ryou."

Garrett still didn't turn to look at the girl. He inquired, almost hesitantly, "Is he... is he, you know, _available_?"

The girl blinked. "You mean...?" her voice trailed off, and one could tell she was a little uncomfortable about saying the word 'whore', even if it was Ryou's profession.

Garrett caught onto the fact and spared her the mortification of saying the word. "Yes," he replied quickly.

"His shift ends at eleven, but he usually doesn't stay that long after – usually he's requested beforehand, while he's waiting tables. If you can get to him fast you might get him tonight, if he doesn't already have a customer."

"He must be popular."

"Oh... yes, he is. Very popular. He's not cheap, though," she warned, shaking her head.

"He doesn't look cheap. How much..?"

"Hmm... about a hundred and three pounds an hour."

At this Garrett gaped, turning to the girl. "What? _One hundred and three_ _pounds_?"

The waitress nodded. "But that's for everything. You have him for whatever actions you want for one hour. He'll do anything you want. Really, he's a gay man's dream come true," she snorted, rolling her eyes.

Garrett licked his lips in anticipation at the saying, sipping his strong alcoholic drink afterwards. A full hour with that gorgeous young male… Anything Garrett wanted. After feeling dizzy with so many possibilities, he turned back to the girl.

"One hundred and three for one hour…" he thought for a moment, doing the math as a sudden idea hit him. "That's almost twenty-five hundred for twenty-four hours."

The woman's eyes widened considerably. "Sure, if you're that horny and rich."

"Which I am," he immediately replied, "And which I'm going to do. I'll pay any amount to have Ryou for a full day. Twenty-four hours. I can do that, correct?"

The girl thought for a moment. "As long as you pay him, I guess there isn't any rule saying you can't."

Garrett took a foolishly large sip of his drink in celebration of the good news, letting out a satisfied sigh afterwards.

"I'll take him."

Garrett looked at his watch. 10:55. Five minutes. Five minutes and he will have that man, that luscious Ryou for twenty-four full hours... That pale-skinned bohemian writhing and moaning in his grasp... Those two thin pink lips against his, and most likely around something else.

By this point he was severely aroused and wishing for some way to offer the ache relief.

_Five minutes and I will have that something..._ he smirked, turning back to the stage to watch his prize. The movements never ceased to send electrical sensations down his body, collecting at one source that was ready to explode. He licked his lips again.

"Ryou..." He mouthed silently.

Ryou, Ryou, Ryou, Ryou. Garrett's fiancé was a nameless face of the past now, long forgotten. If only his boyfriend would dance like that for him… or let Garrett be the dominant one, just _once_. That was another reason why he wanted this night.

Only a select few times did he ever get to be the dominant one during sex. Garrett loved being the submissive one, but being the dominant wasn't so bad either, and lately it was something he craved.

And being the alpha male to this one… this _Ryou _was definitely going to be miles away from bad.  
_  
_The music of the song slowly faded and Garrett downed his drink foolishly, knowing that was his cue. He had to get to Ryou fast. He stumbled out of his seat after slapping a ten-dollar bill on the bar for his drink and pushed roughly through a crowd of people. His eyes never left Ryou, though the silver-haired wonder's movements had faded with the music.

Eventually Ryou stopped altogether and winked at the crowd below him before turning to go backstage.

"Wait— Ryou!" Garrett's desperate voice called as he staggered to the front of the stage.

The slender male stopped and turned, doe-brown eyes blinking curiously. He was silent for a moment, waiting for the one who called him to speak up.

"I want you." Garrett started, looking up at the barely-clothed dancer.

Thin pink lips belonging to that dancer curled into an amused smile. "I've heard that one before," he said, giggling lightly afterwards.

Garrett felt his face flush at the first hearing of Ryou's voice. So soft… so, so _innocent_! He couldn't believe this was the voice of a prostitute...

"I have twenty-five hundred pounds for you – for tonight and tomorrow, with me."

Almost ridiculing brown eyes widened. He stepped forward. "...Really now?" he asked, interest piqued. Twin mocha orbs studied the man on the floor below, taking in his appearance. He was an attractive man; actually, the redhead was even better looking than attractive. Based solely on his looks, Ryou decided he wouldn't mind, after doing the math, spending twenty-four hours with him.

Especially with that kind of pay...

The whitenette made a gesture to the back of the stage. "Meet me back there." he said, turning on his heel. "Third room to the right. I'll be waiting."

Garrett nodded, never taking his eyes off Ryou's body. He almost tripped on his own feet as he walked away from the stage with his eyes still glued ahead of him.

_Third door to the right; third door to the right... _He chanted silently, walking down the hall backstage. He stopped at that door labeled 'Ryou' on a slip of purple paper.

Finding it a rather small sign for such a big star, the green eyed man scowled and knocked on the door. "It's me."

There was silence. Then: "...Who? Oh— _You_. That's right. Come in." the soft, velvety voice answered.

Almost beating the door down, Garrett charged in and closed the door behind him.

Ryou giggled, bringing one hand to delicately cover his mouth.

"What's your name?" he asked, approaching the other with catlike grace.

Garrett raked his eyes up and down Ryou's glimmering body. They weren't underneath the distracting flashing lights of the stage floor anymore. In the brightly illuminated dressing room he was permitted a full view of Ryou, and he was not disappointed.

"...Your name?" Ryou repeated after several moments of being observed like a meal.

Garrett glanced up from where his eyes were transfixed between the other's legs and blinked. "Garrett."

A toothy smile appeared on Ryou's already glimmering features. "I like that name. Garrett," he repeated. "So... you tell me you have twenty-five hundred pounds?"

"For you," he replied, "with me."

"Of course... One full day."

"Yes."

"That's quite a bit of money."

"Eh, pocket change, really," the redhead boasted.

Ryou giggled again in an obvious attempt of sucking up to his wealthy customer."...Well, I accept."

Garrett blinked again, his mind on fire.

_Score!_ he thought to himself, trying not to jump up and down in anticipation.

"Great!" he blurted, taking Ryou's pale hands in his own. He ran his thumb gently across the baby-soft skin. "Are you always this soft...?" he couldn't help but ask, wondering in the back of his mind how old Ryou was, for the petite male did not look a day over eighteen.

Ryou blushed, not accustomed to being afforded such a strange compliment, before smiling.

"Maybe," he replied modestly, enjoying the warm tenderness displayed by the handsome male before him. "Are you always this gentle?"

He looked up and locked eyes with Garrett, whose heart skipped a beat.

"Come with me and you'll find out," the redhead replied.

"To... to your place?" Ryou blinked, surprised by the suggestion.

"My penthouse, yes," Garrett answered, laughing afterwards.

Ryou laughed with him before glancing down at their adjoined hands. The smile nearly fell from his face as he noticed the diamond-studded band on the man's left hand. For a moment, his elated expression faltered, his form stiffening slightly before relaxing once more.

_He's engaged..._

It was one of the young man's boundaries... not to sleep with those whom he knew were already involved with someone else. And he had half a mind to break this off before they could get any farther.

But...

Twenty-five hundred pounds. That was quite a bit of money for one day's work. He just couldn't refuse.

"Well..." he said, moistening his suddenly dry throat with a swallow. "I don't make a habit of going to my clients' houses. Normally I use one of the upstairs bedrooms, or go to a hotel..."

"My place is nicer," Garrett claimed, dismissing the hesitance in Ryou's voice.

Ryou didn't say anything for a moment. Releasing Garret's hands, he moved over to the rack holding his clothes and pulled an outfit off of a hanger. He disappeared behind a curtain and proceeded to change out of his dance costume.

"...A penthouse. You must be very wealthy."

Garrett nodded arrogantly. "I am, as a matter of fact."

Ryou's angelic voice resounded mordantly from behind the curtain separating them. "I hear that a man who praises himself so often is compensating for something."

Garrett laughed out loud and walked over to the curtain, stepping around to face the prostitute. The whitenette, now donned in an overlarge sweatshirt and baggy Kappa pants, glanced over at him with one slender eyebrow raised. Somehow he managed to remain just as alluring even in scrubs.

Chuckling again, the redhead draped an arm over the frail shoulders. "You will soon discover that that saying is anything but true."

Ryou looked to the side, staring down at Garrett's engagement ring. After managing to find his voice he replied, "I-I look forward to it."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Wanna know what happened next? Just take a wild guess.  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ryou could easily admit that Garrett's penthouse was one of the nicest residences he'd ever set foot in. Lavishly decorated in deep purple, burgundy, and gold, the apartment possessed a very regal quality that made Ryou feel as if he was stepping foot into a King's royal palace rather than someone's home. To be perfectly honest, he felt completely unworthy of entering.

Garrett would not allow him to hesitate. As if guessing the reluctance to enter, he grasped hold of Ryou's hand and pulled the petite male farther inside.

Ryou continued to glance around, taking in the rich splendor. He marveled at the tasteful wall decorations, the uniquely shaped candles set on shelves and racks. It all seemed strangely familiar, this style of decorating; he eyed a golden sponge-painted wall curiously, tilting his head to the side.

Mounted on the wall opposite of where he stood was a large portrait of a naked woman. A perfect white eyebrow arched in confusion as he stared at it, trying to decipher its purpose, as it did not go along with the color scheme of the rest of the apartment.

The woman depicted was by no means attractive. Rather boyishly shaped with a nearly flat chest and narrow hips, she stood proudly bare, making no efforts with her pale hands to cover the more private areas of her body. A hint of rouge dusted her cheeks unevenly, and the red lipstick had been smeared as if her lips had been recently kissed. Crowned by a halo of shoulder-length white-blonde hair, the woman's face was turned to the side and her eyes remained closed to the world.

But even with only a profile of her face, by the way her eyes crinkled in the corners one could tell she was in crying or in some kind of emotional pain.

In a very sad way, the painting was beautiful. Ryou took a step closer to it, running his eyes across the hand-crafted features of the woman's body. His heart sank with deep sorrow as he continued to stare at her face, and the barely noticeable tear tracks painted down her cheek.

"This is lovely," he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away even as he felt two foreign arms wind around his waist, drawing him backwards against a muscular chest. He could feel the vibration of Garrett's deep chuckle through the fabric of the larger male's shirt.

"I don't really care for it... Art's not really my thing, you know?"

Ryou made a small humming noise in the back of his throat and relaxed into the embrace as the grip around him tightened ever-so-slightly. "She looks so upset," he commented, chocolate-brown orbs falling shut as he felt a moist pair of lips sift through his hair and place a kiss on his neck.

Garrett breathed a sigh, which he noticed caused the tiny hairs on the whitenette's swan-like neck to stand erect. He glared over at the painting in distaste. All this talk about art was turning him off severely. He didn't give two shits about the painting. In all honesty, he found it very ugly; he still wondered why his fiancé had been so adamant about purchasing it in the first place.

He persisted to trail kisses down the pale neck, nibbling on the soft skin every so often. The petite male in his arms unclosed his eyes, staring blankly at the portrait in front of him; unbidden tears stung the corners of his eyes, slipping down his cheeks as he released on cue a practiced and perfected pleasured gasp and pressed his back further against the other man's torso.

Garrett's hands began to wander, slipping past the hem of the baggy sweatshirt and exploring the naked flesh beneath. Ryou shivered, eyes falling shut once again as he forced the tears to keep from falling.

_Twenty-five hundred pounds,_ he reminded himself. _Twenty-five hundred..._

The redhead began to walk them out of the foyer, keeping Ryou close to himself as they moved to the bedroom.

The first room on the right. They entered the bedroom and Garrett wasted no time, rounding on the whitenette and looking him up and down. The earlier gentleness had all but vanished from his face, and in its place there was an animalistic hunger. The first thing he ordered was for Ryou to strip.

Ryou pursed his lips before bringing his hands down to the hem of his shirt and tugging on it, pulling the fabric up and over his head and tossing it to the side. It landed in a heap on the ground.

Emerald green orbs wandered over the newly exposed flesh, fingers itching to touch it again – especially as Ryou brought his own pale hands across his chest, trailing them downwards and stopping when they reached the rim of his pants. He stepped out of those all too easily, and several moments later his undergarments joined the small pile of clothes on the floor.

Ryou stood bare in front of the hungry redhead – a pale and glittering and perfect body.

"Get on the bed."

Ryou did as told, moving his feet backwards without turning around. He kept his chocolate eyes on his customer at all times, and Garrett made no move to look away either. As he felt the back of his leg hit the ledge of the mattress, he sat down and then lay back, positioning himself comfortably.

Garrett heaved a sigh, grinning at the sight of the naked angel on his bed, waiting so patiently to be claimed. He approached the bed slowly and settled his body overtop of the smaller male. Ryou made a noise on the back of his throat, parting his lips slightly and moistening them with his tongue. He brought his arms up over his head, completely submissive to his customer's desires.

With a wicked grin and a bruising kiss, the twenty-four hour session began.

And the entire time, all Ryou could think about was Garrett's fiancé.

* * *

_Whoo... that was pretty long (by my standards at least..)._ _So now we know what Ryou's night life is like... pretty sad. Once again I'd like to thank the oh-so-amazing Kipcha for writing the first and third scenes of this chapter. (hugs and showers Kip-chan with presents). Oh, and for those who were wondering, this story takes place in England (in case I didn't make that clear in earlier chapters...) Here's what Ryou's price would be in the US of A: _

**Britain Pound/GBP (£) to US Dollar/USD ($)**

-- £103: roughly $200.75

-- £2500: roughly $4872.51

_...Please review! Honestly... I don't mean to sound like a review-whore here, but I really would like to know what people think of my story. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, too. _


	8. How It Is: Senseless

_For some reason, this chapter was really hard for me to write. I had to go back and change it many times. I'm still not entirely happy with it... and it's a little on the short side, so I apologize.

* * *

_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_There's nothing that I want to do but try to make it up to you._

-- Daughtry (Feels Like Tonight)  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_A breathy sigh escaped his throat as Ryou clung to Malik, unwilling to release the comforting heat offered by the Egyptian's body. A crumpled piece of lined paper was slipped into his hand as a pair of warm, moist lips brushed against the shell of his ear. _

"_I want to see you again."_

Murky brown orbs stared uncertainly at the numbers scrawled neatly on the leaf of paper. He tilted his head to the side, staring at it from a different angle as if trying to discover a secret message hidden in the lines that might prove helpful with making the decision of whether or not to actually call.

Currently the whitenette was situated on a poorly stuffed loveseat, his legs curled up underneath him and the cordless phone resting in his lap – feeling like a dead weight pressing down on his body. His gaze drifted from the sheet of paper to the telephone, a worried frown dragging his lips downwards.

He was so confused. Should he risk bringing Malik back into his life again? If he just ignored their previous two encounters, he could attempt to forget about the Egyptian's presence in the town. Or, he could even quit his job at Room21 and move to another city to ensure no further run-ins would occur.

But... he didn't want to run away. Ryou liked this town – the people who lived there. He enjoyed spending time with his co-workers from the club, and he especially liked making an intimate friend after so long. Xander, his only real friend since Malik left him – the man he considered an older brother, practically, as Xander constantly ensured his safety and happiness – would be devastated if Ryou just picked up and left town.

No, Ryou couldn't leave. He didn't like the thought of starting over again. He was going on thirty... he needed to settle down somewhere.

He couldn't let his past with Malik control him. He needed to move on.

And maybe... maybe he could move on and still keep Malik in his life? Maybe fate was handing him an opportunity – perhaps it was time to reconcile things with the Egyptian? Perhaps they could still be friends. Malik seemed to want that...

Ryou nodded in concurrence to his own thoughts, gripping the paper tightly in his fist, mind made up. With wavering confidence, he punched in the indicated numbers, holding the phone up to his ear and waiting anxiously.

With each ring from the opposite end, the whitenette's nervousness increased. He twisted a lock of hair around his finger, chewing on his lower lip. And on the fourth ring, there was a click and a deep voice greeting him.

"_Hello?"_

Ryou, losing his nerve, hung up and tossed the phone to the other side of the couch.

Several moments of silence passed, and then the telephone rang, causing the young man to jump in surprise. Hesitantly he reached over and took the receiver into his hands, eyeing it curiously.

Shit. Was it Malik? Did he have one of those Caller IDs? Shit, shit, shit! Oh, God... Why hadn't Ryou thought of that earlier?

He almost allowed the answering machine to take the call, but at the last possible moment held the phone up to his ear and pressed the 'on' button. "H-hello...?" he asked tentatively, biting down on his lower lip in anticipation as he awaited the response from the other line.

"Ryou?"

The whitenette breathed a sigh of relief. It was not Malik on the opposite end.

"Oh! Xander!" He greeted in a more cheerful tone, happy to hear from his friend and client. He hadn't heard from the blonde-haired man in several weeks, and he couldn't fathom as to why. "I'm so glad you called."

"Really?" the man asked, sounding doubtful.

"Of course... I mean, I haven't heard from you for a while. You haven't visited me at the club lately. I was getting nervous. Are you okay?"

There was a sigh from the other end. "I'm fine, Ryou. Just been busy lately, that's all. Don't worry your pretty little head over me."

Ryou didn't know what to say, so instead he released a small practiced giggle and waited for Xander to do the talking.

"So, I was wondering. Have you eaten anything yet?"

The whitenette shook his head despite the fact his friend could not see him through the phone. "No, not yet. Why? Are you asking me on a date?"

Xander chuckled good-naturedly. "I might be, yes."

Ryou smiled, glancing down at the paper in his hands before tossing it onto the coffee table. He curled a lock of colorless hair around his index finger and giggled once more, this time genuinely. "Well, are you or aren't you?" he wanted to know.

"I am."

"Then pick me up in ten minutes."

"Will do."

And with that they said their goodbyes and hung up. Ryou stood from the couch, tossing the phone down on the cushions, and departed into the only other room of the apartment to get changed for dinner.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_I was waiting for the day you'd come around._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Eighty minutes later found Ryou and Xander situated comfortably in a booth tucked away in the dimly lighted corner of The Pier – a five-star restaurant located in the heart of the city. The plates set before them were empty, or nearly empty, and the two males conversed animatedly. A half nearly bottle of wine sat between them, and at a certain point Xander poured more of the ruby liquid into Ryou's glass, urging him to drink more.

Ryou, whose cheeks were already rosily tinted with the affects of the drink, shook his head back and forth to discourage Xander from filling his glass again. "Xander, no... I've already had too much."

"Nonsense. You can never have too much wine." He filled his own glass halfway and raised it as if to give a toast before sipping.

Ryou, sighing in defeat, did the same. "What were we toasting to?" he wondered after leaning back in his chair.

Xander smirked and pointed to the whitenette. "To us, of course."

Long, dark eyelashes fluttered flirtatiously. "To us?" he repeated, wishing for the older male to elaborate.

The half-Frenchman cleared his throat, glancing away. His mouth was suddenly dry. This was the perfect moment... He could hardly think of a better time than now. Ryou had set him up by asking that. All he had to do now was tell Ryou how much he cared about him – tell Ryou that he loved him, more than anything, and then ask that fateful question. He didn't have a ring on him, but that hardly mattered; he could go buy one right after dinner.

"Ryou..." he began, the humor gone from his strong voice and replaced by a serious tone that the whitenette had never heard him speak in before.

Blinking curiously, the chocolate-eyed male edged forward. Feeling Xander's hand cover his own caused his interest to heighten. At the same time, he felt more than a little awkward; he was not used to Xander acting so solemn with him, or looking at him so intensely.

Xander moistened his lips, coughing once again. "Ryou, I..."

At that exact moment, the waiter decided to arrive. "Anything for dessert, monsieur?"

Ryou removed his hand from underneath Xander's larger one, turning his full attention on the waiter - partially thankful for the distraction, even though he was not even interested in having dessert.

"Oh, no thank you," he declined, smiling sweetly. "Just the check, please."

The waiter nodded and disappeared.

Ryou brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes before glancing at Xander. The blonde-haired man had returned to his slouching position in his chair, a deep line across his forehead and a distant look in his eyes. An odd silence settled between them and Ryou fidgeted in his chair, feeling rather uncomfortable.

The waiter came back several minutes later, bearing a little black booklet in his hands, which he presented to the two. Instinctively Ryou made to grab it, but as usual Xander snatched it out of the waiter's hand before Ryou. The whitenette sighed and smiled.

"Xander, when are you going to let me pay for you? I-I have the money... I'm not that poor."

Xander shook his head, reaching into his back pocket and removing his wallet. He took out his Visa and stuck it in the book, handing it back to the waiter. "I asked you out, Ryou. It wouldn't be polite of me to make you pay for the meal."

Ryou pouted, staring hopelessly at the older man. "I'll pay you back one day," he promised, "whether you want me to or not."

"Ah, your presence is reimbursement enough for me, Ryou."

The brown-eyed man's cheeks flushed darkly, and this time not due to the wine. "You flatter me."

"That's the point."

The blush deepened, Ryou's insides squirming in delight at the compliments; he didn't know what to say. Luckily he was once more saved by the waiter, who returned with the receipt for Xander. The blonde-haired man set to work on filling in the total for the meal.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here, Ryou."

Ryou nodded his head, standing up. Xander replaced his wallet and offered the whitenette his hand, which Ryou took with a giggle before allowing himself to be led out of the restaurant.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_I was chasing, but nothing was all I found._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I do believe you're drunk, lovely."

A small snort of laughter escaped Ryou's lips as he waved his hand dismissively in Xander's direction. He had no doubt of that fact, as he could feel the pleasant buzz numbing his mind. "Only thanks to you, mister 'you can never have too much wine'!"

Xander smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not complaining... you look quite sexy when you're drunk."

Ryou screwed up his eyebrows, lips twitching downwards into a slight frown. "How do I look any different than usual?"

The half-Frenchman wrapped an arm around the lithe waist, drawing Ryou closer to himself. To his pleasant surprise, Ryou leaned into the embrace – though whether his reasoning derived from the alcohol in his body or free will remained unclear. "Well," Xander began, rubbing the whitenette's hip affectionately. "Your face turns this beautiful shade of red... and your posture much more relaxed... and you smile and laugh a lot more. I like it."

Ryou smiled softly, closing his eyes. "Xander?" he called meekly. The older man let out a small noise to show he was listening and Ryou bowed his head, silver-white bangs shading his eyes from view. "Am I... am I beautiful when I'm not drunk, too?"

Taken off guard by the question, Xander couldn't stop the incredulous expression from crossing his features? "Are you kidding, Ryou?" The whitenette shook his head, eyes taking on a strangely dull, melancholy hue. "Ryou... look at me." He turned the younger so that they faced one another. His hands traveled to rest on either of the frail shoulders. Insecure brown eyes stared up at him. "How can you even ask me that question? How can you not think you're beautiful?"

Taking in a shuddering breath, the white-haired man looked away once more, focusing on the ground. "I... I just don't understand. You say I'm beautiful... everyone says I'm beautiful... if-if I'm so beautiful, why did he leave me?"

Now Xander understood Ryou's sudden depression. They'd had this discussion many times before – concerning Ryou's first and only love, a Mr. Malik Ishtar. Xander was the only person whom Ryou told these secrets.

Two strong arms wound around Ryou's shoulders, bringing the petite male into a comforting embrace.

"I don't know, Ryou... he's an idiot. He's a moron for leaving you."

"I love him so much..."

"Don't say that. You can't possibly love him after all he did. Ryou, he abandoned you!"

Ryou's breath hitched in his throat, tears lining his eyes. "I-I know... I know he did... but I can't bring myself to hate him... I want to... I-I really want to hate him. But I can't. Xander, I can't." He clenched the material of the elder's winter coat, burying his face in the navy blue material. "You don't understand what it's like... to-to love someone so much... a-and know they don't-don't love you back."

Xander's ice-blue eyes turned down on Ryou, appearing rather indifferent. "Yes... I do."

It was obvious now that as long as Malik Ishtar remained alive, Ryou would never love him in the way Xander desired.

A silence settled in between them, and as it did Ryou's tears gradually subsided and his stance adopted a minute sway. Shifting in Xander's arms, the whitenette lifted his head to glance up into the older man's face. Pink lips fell apart, dark lashes fluttering, as he scrutinized his features.

Xander wondered what it was the petite angel was seeing with those childish mocha irises – the pupils of which were more constricted than usual. The healthy flush adorning the pallid cheeks only heightened the innocent aura Ryou exuded. The blonde felt his throat tighten, eyes flashing with the desire to do several things in order to ensure Ryou gave him that look more often.

"You have a murderer's eyes," Ryou stated randomly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Xander tilted his head to the side, blinking in quiet amusement and brushing the comment aside as nothing more than drunken babble. Then he leaned down and kissed the whitenette on the mouth.

It was not a work night, but Ryou succumbed to him anyways.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_And it feels like tonight._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ryou managed to dissuade Xander from driving him home the next morning. As much as he appreciated the offer, he felt guilty taking so much from his friend. It seemed to the albino that he relied on Xander too much. Sometimes he wondered if Xander thought he was just using him, and it was this fear that drove him to insist on walking himself home.

"_Don't worry about me," _he'd urged._ "I like walking."_

Xander had smiled and kissed his lower lip in surrender.

Relieved, the white-haired man began his trek downtown, happily leaving the upscale house behind him. He still couldn't believe his actions the previous evening – the half of them he could remember. Not even able to recall drinking very much, Ryou wondered how he ended up in bed with Xander. The only memory he possessed of the previous night was crying against his friend, and then Xander kissing him. Obviously the night had progressed into something much more lustful than a chaste kiss – a fact Ryou was now mentally berating himself for.

To be honest, he felt as if Xander had taken advantage of him. The blonde knew how Ryou's behavior changed after alcohol entered his system. Why would Xander want have sex with him when Ryou was not even conscious of his own actions?

Not to mention it was not even a work night. Ryou was not a whore in the sense that he slept with random people whenever he felt like it. It was another of his unspoken rules to only have sex with paying clients, and only on nights when he had a shift at Room21.

Ryou then blamed himself for not being more aware, even if drunk. He should not have let Xander use him like that.

_Maybe it's fair,_ he thought, frowning, as he turned down Chesterfield Avenue – a narrow street lined with multiple boutiques and cozy, family-run restaurants. _He's been kind to me... He buys me dinner and takes me places, and never insists I pay him back. I guess... I don't know, I guess it's fair if I think about it that way._

At some point during his inner musings, the Heavens clouded over and snow began to fall. This change in whether brought a smile to the whitenette's face, as there was nothing he adored this time of year more than winter snow. It always brightened his spirits, even when he was in the worst of moods.

Ryou smiled, holding out a hand and catching a snowflake in his palm. It melted upon contact with white mitten, as did the several others he caught.

"You should catch them with your tongue."

Ryou blinked several times at the voice familiar, turning his head to the side – though he did not have to look to know who the voice belonged to.

A vision from his past stepped forth from the shadows in the form of Malik Ishtar, casually donned in khaki pants and a snow-speckled black coat which was fastened up to his neck to keep the frigid air from touching his sensitive skin. A black and white checkered scarf looped around his shoulders for extra protection against the cold, and a black tuke covered a majority of his golden hair.

"_Catch them on your tongue, Malik!" a seventeen-year-old Ryou suggested playfully, holding onto his boyfriend's dark-skinned hand and pointing to the gray sky with childlike enthusiasm. _

_Malik followed his gaze unsurely, not quite knowing what to do. This was his first time ever seeing snow, so he was more than a little hesitant. Up until this point, the only snowflakes he ensnared had been the ones that, by fluke, landed on his clothing during their descent from Heaven. The thought of tasting the snow was one he was eager to execute. _

_Sensing this, Ryou tilted his head back, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out. One of the snowflakes fluttering down to the Earth was halted by the warm tongue and instantly dissolved into an invisible puddle of water on the pink muscle. Malik observed, fascinated. _

"What are you doing here?"

A dignified blonde eyebrow arched in silent question as Malik descended the two steps leading up into a men's clothing store and fell into stride with the whitenette. Ryou hastily looked away from him, his earlier depression taking over once again.

"What, a guy can't take a walk without being interrogated?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ryou continued to stare straight ahead of him, not daring to look at the Egyptian's face. He did not want a repeat of their last meeting. "I'm not interrogating you... It was just a simple question."

Malik stared down at him, noting the way Ryou purposely avoided even glancing his way. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Just taking a walk, that's all. Honest. I'm not stalking you."

"Well you have a funny way of showing up wherever I happen to be," Ryou pointed out, "so forgive me for suspecting."

The Egyptian stopped in his tracks, his lavender eyes trained solely on Ryou as the petite albino never deterred from his set path, hardly even conscious of the fact that Malik was no longer by his side. The older male's hips swayed ever-so-slightly as he walked, shimmering strands of white hair swishing to and fro in accordance with the movement of his body, and the dark-skinned man couldn't fight the hypnosis that overcame him the longer he continued to stare.

_God, you're beautiful..._

His feet carried him forward, his hand reaching out on its own accord to grasp onto one of the bony shoulders. The smaller froze at the contact.

"Ryou..."

"...Yes?" came the slow, emotionless response.

Malik hesitated a moment before blurting out his question. "Can I buy you lunch?"

The whitenette finally turned around to meet his gaze. Twin silver-white eyebrows were arched skeptically. "It's too early," he declined.

Malik did not skip a beat. "Breakfast, then?" he suggested.

The chocolate-eyed male shook his head. "I already ate," he lied, placing a hand over his stomach in an attempt to conceal the obvious rumbling.

"Oh..." was the disconsolate response.

They continued walking, neither of them speaking to the other and each trying to find something interesting to set their gazes on – other than the one standing next to them, that is.

Lavender orbs hurriedly scanned the surroundings, glistening as they spotted a diamond in the rough. He nudged Ryou's arm and Ryou hummed softly, directing his vision to whatever Malik wanted him to see. A bakery.

One of Malik's hands, insulated by a dark leather glove, brushed a strand of hair from Ryou's eyes and tucked it behind the small ear.

"How bout a treat, Creampuff?"

Ryou's insides squirmed at the usage of another old nickname from their relationship. He could almost feel the blush rising to his cheeks as the happier of his memories of Malik overrode his senses, one particular scene replaying over and over at the forefront of his mind – involving none other than the whitenette's favorite treat (creampuffs) and a sexually charged Egyptian teenager.

A hand settled on his lower back and began to guide him in the direction of the bakery, which was festively decorated with multi-colored Christmas lights. Ryou allowed himself to be led away by the Egyptian, and he was completely aware of his actions from that moment on, as he had no flowing wine to blame them on.

* * *

_That's all for this chapter. I know. It's so short. (Cries pathetically)._

_So... should Malik and Ryou get back together, or should Ryou get with Xander? Please review! Tell me what you think of the chapter, or the story overall so far. I'm interested to know what you think. Constructive criticism is always apreciated, too. _


	9. How It Is: Unsettling

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and especially to those who have taken the time to review this story. I really appreciate it!_

_... So a lot of people seem to find Malik an asshole. He is a bit of a wanker, isn't he? (giggles) But I still love him, and so does Ryou -- so I guess that's all that really matters?

* * *

_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Can we make this something good?  
- __- _Daughtry (It's Not Over)  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ryou seated himself comfortably on the brown leather sofa, removing his heavy winter coat and setting it on the free space of cushion beside him. Chocolate-brown orbs took in the warm decor of the bakery, eventually landing on the tall blonde-haired man at the front of the ordering line.

Malik was smiling that typical charming smile of his at the young girl behind the counter, his lilac eyes skimming the menu as he asked her a question. She giggled flirtatiously, flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder, and pointed to one of the many delicacies offered on display.

Ryou's lips twitched downwards, a frown disgruntling his features. Malik smiled once again, laughed, and held up his right hand to indicate two of something.

The whitenette tore his gaze away and picked a magazine up off of the table, flipping it open and scanning the pages for an interesting article to read. Several minutes later Malik approached, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands and a small box tucked under his left arm. Ryou blinked, raising his gaze from the magazine as one of the mugs was placed on the small wooden table before him.

"What's this?" he asked, folding the magazine and setting it aside whilst taking the mug into possession.

"Caramel macchiato," the Egyptian replied, placing his own mug on the table as he took a seat next to the albino.

Ryou placed his lips against the smooth rim, daintily sipping the dark liquid. Malik turned his body slightly to the side so the other could see the box in his lap. Slowly, the tanned hands rose to lift the lid, revealing what treasure lay hidden beneath.

Ryou's eyes widened considerably, mouth falling open in pleasant surprise. "Are... are those...?"

Malik grinned, tipping his head forward in an affirmative nod. "Of course. I'd never forget my Baby's favorite treat."

The twenty-seven-year-old whipped his head upwards, skeptical.

_Baby... my Baby..._

"_Hey, Baby."_

"_Baby, what's wrong?"_

"_I love you, Baby."_

"_... Not now, Baby."_

"_No, Baby, I just need some space."_

"_For Christ's sake, Babe! Get off my back!"_

Ryou forced the images from his mind, reminding himself that the past could not be changed and that he needed to look to the future. Forgive and forget. It was time to move on, not dwell on the misfortunes of adolescence. This was the future... and sitting beside him was Malik Ishtar; Malik Ishtar had returned to him, just as he'd prayed for in his dreams.

_Forgive and forget... I love you. Let's start over._

"_Malik... you still love me, don't you?"_

_A tentative smile, followed shortly afterwards by a familiar pair of strong arms winding around a petite and unclothed waist. _

"_Of course, Baby. Of course I do. I'll never stop loving you."_

Hesitantly a pale hand strayed from Ryou's side, plucking one of the pastries from within the box. "I... I haven't had one of these in years," he admitted, appearing uncertain as to whether or not he wanted to risk eating the delicacy.

"What? Really?" Lavender eyes blinked rapidly, Malik seeming extremely surprised to learn this. He leaned forward, expecting some sort of great explanation. "Why?"

Ryou glanced away and shrugged his shoulders in an uncomfortable fashion before wrapping his lips around the creampuff and chewing thoughtfully. Brown orbs rolled back in ecstasy – Malik's heart skipped a beat at the pleasured expression, a lump forming in his throat.

"They taste as good as I remember," Ryou clarified after swallowing, an action which the Egyptian mimicked rather loudly.

Malik scooted away from Ryou very slightly, placing the box in-between them and then reaching out for his macchiato.

They lapsed into silence, Malik tasting his drink and Ryou daring to consume three more pastry puffs. Neither knew exactly what to say. What could they possibly talk about? It had been so long; there was a multitude of things they could discuss – things that needed to be discussed – but... those subjects were all so painful... to uncomfortable to even mention.

"So..."

Ryou glanced up, studying the Egyptian's face and noticing rather quickly that those lovely lilac jewels were fixated on something else entirely. Following the smoldering gaze, he realized that Malik was staring at his left hand. Curling his ring-less fingers into his palm, Ryou chanced a peek at Malik's own left hand. Relief flooded his system as he realized that, just like him, the blonde had no wedding ring that bound him to another.

Knowing now what Malik was planning on asking him, the whitenette shook his head from side to side. "No, I'm not married."

"I thought for sure you would be," Malik confessed with a smile, placing his hand overtop of the smaller, pallid appendage belonging to Ryou. The albino did not make an attempt to move. "I mean, look at you... You're so beautiful. I thought for sure... well... I thought that you'd have men all over you, fighting for your hand." His dark, bony fingers laced through Ryou's, and he marveled at the warmth and softness the other's skin still retained.

To his surprise, Ryou's lips twitched upwards in an uncharacteristic smirk. "What makes you think there's not?" he wanted to know, silver eyebrows raised quizzically. "I said I wasn't married, not that I wasn't with someone."

In the back of his mind, the whitenette wondered how Malik would react should the blonde ever come to know of Ryou's secret profession. If Malik ever saw the men throwing money at his feet while he danced, groping at him, screaming lewd suggestions to him from below the stage, all in hopes of spending the night with him after his shift ended. What would Malik's view of his innocent ex-lover be if he ever witnessed Ryou selling his body, making fraudulent love to a complete stranger just to gain an extra few bucks.

Malik would never hold his hand like this, play with his fingers, and stare at him in that almost-flirtatious way, if he knew... if he knew what a whore the whitenette truly was.

Feeling rather dirty and ashamed of himself, Ryou wrenched his hand free from underneath Malik's, cradling it to his chest.

The lightly accented voice reached his ears. "Are you? With someone, that is."

Ryou thought of Xander, who cared for him more than a client or best friend should, who made love to him because he was attracted to Ryou's personality instead of just his profession, who Ryou knew he could count on for almost anything. Xander who, despite how much Ryou wanted to and tried to, he could not feel that same type of love for.

"... Not exactly."

This response seemed to only confuse Malik. "Not exactly?" he repeated, tilting his head to the side. "How does that work?"

Blushing in embarrassment, Ryou turned his vision elsewhere so that he would not have to see those heated lavender orbs burning into him. "Well... um, we've dated, but we're not together."

"Do you love him?"

The albino bit down on his tongue to keep from bursting out and screaming that Malik had no right to interrogate him like this. Calming himself, form stiffening somewhat, he replied, "...That's really none of your business."

Realizing that he would not be receiving a straight answer from the pale-skinned man, Malik wisely dropped the subject. He took another drink of his macchiato and then made to ask something else, but Ryou's voice – in a most sarcastic tone than he'd ever heard the whitenette use – interrupted him.

"What about you? Tied the knot yet, or is that a commitment too big for you?"

He couldn't really deny the fact. When it came to serious commitments, he did have a bit of a problem – that being his inane anxiety of having his freedom stolen. Ryou knew this better than anyone. Placing a hand over his heart, the Egyptian cracked a smile. "Ouch."

In a quieter, more normal voice, the whitenette rephrased his inquiry. "Are you with anyone?"

Malik, for a moment, appeared hesitant. He wanted to respond in the same way the older male had to his question about being in love. Opening his mouth, he made to say something – but he snapped his jaw shut before any noise could come forth, suddenly appearing worried as he reconsidered his choice of words. For a moment he came across as being deep in thought, lost within a mental debate. Biting down on his lower lip, he finally shook his head. "No... no, I'm not."

Ryou's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Now _that's_ a shock."

"Is it?"

"Well, yeah... I mean, look at you."

The Egyptian smirked, taking full opportunity to draw forth a compliment from the twenty-seven-year-old. He leaned forward, eyelids lowering a fraction to give him an overall drowsy appearance. "What about me?" he wanted to know.

The whitenette shivered, slanting away from the toned body nearly brushing against his own. Malik's very masculine scent reached his nostrils, prevalent over all the other delectable smells of the bakery. Licking his thin, pink lips nervously, chocolate-brown orbs darted about the room, looking anywhere but at the man directly before him. Malik's smirk intensified and he dropped his voice an octave as he repeated the question.

"Huh, Baby? What about me?"

Cheeks burning, Ryou ducked his head – feeling altogether like a young teenager with raging hormones instead of a responsible grown man. His heart fluttered rapidly in his chest. Malik's face was close enough for the albino male to feel the hot, coffee-scented breath on his round face every time the Egyptian exhaled.

Why the hell was he so flustered? Ryou was accustomed to being close and intimate with other men. So why did it affect him when Malik Ishtar, of all people, flirted with him?

"You're... you're, you know..."

"No, I don't know. Tell me."

Of course, Ryou was no fool. He knew the Egyptian was merely fishing for compliments. The fact angered him somewhat. Malik clearly knew of his amazing good looks and the affect his presence had on the albino – and yet he was using both to his advantage in order for Ryou to confess that he was still attracted to him.

_That wanker..._

Not willing to give Malik the satisfaction, pink lips twitched downwards in an uncaring frown as Ryou shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant fashion. "You're decent-looking," he finally replied.

Malik's face fell, his jaw slackening. Obviously this was not the response he had been waiting for.

Ryou took his time in enjoying another creampuff. "So," he drawled, taking pleasure in Malik's stupefied silence. "Why were you so adamant about taking me for coffee?"

Malik blinked rapidly, jostling from his thoughts and landing his vision on Ryou. "Well," he began, gaining back his original teasing tone of voice. "I was getting around to asking you out..."

Milk chocolate orbs widened in disbelief. "_What_?! Are-are you drunk or something?"

The Egyptian shook his head. "Perfectly sober," he assured, raising his right hand as if taking an oath. "I confess... seeing you now, after so long... well..." He cupped Ryou's cheek, gently outlining the rosebud lips with his thumb.

The indifferent façade dropped. Ryou trembled, eyes resembling those of a frightened animal.

"You're so beautiful."

Closing his eyes sadly, Ryou turned his head away from Malik, more than tempted to break free of the affectionate touches. They were in a public building... and this, this was so wrong. But it felt... it felt so nice. Finally, Malik was looking at him in that adoring manner Ryou always yearned for him to. Finally, Malik was, in a way, acknowledging his mistake. Finally... Malik was making a step towards piecing together their broken relationship.

But it wasn't real... It couldn't be real. Malik was a liar by nature – a seducer.

"Why... why are you saying this to me?"

"I don't know, Ry. Honestly... Seeing you again... I guess I still have feelings for you, you know? Feelings that never went away. Maybe there's a reason we saw each other again after so long. Maybe this is Fate telling us we're supposed to get back together."

Ryou swallowed the slowly-forming lump in his throat. "No, Malik... I don't want to get back together with you."

It was only half-truthful. Part of him wanted nothing more than to throw himself at the Egyptian and beg for Malik to take him back, to kiss him and make love to him in front of everyone in the bakery, just to prove how much he still loved the blonde.

The reasonable side of him, however, accepted that getting involved with Malik Ishtar could only lead to pain. A relationship beyond friendship was off-limits – especially when it came to Malik.

Gathering his coat from the loveseat, Ryou hurriedly slipped his arms through the sleeves and worked on fastening the several large buttons. Once finished, he cast one last look at the Egyptian and shook his head.

"It was a mistake for me to come here. I don't want to get back together with you," he repeated, voice firmer this time around, as he rose to his feet. "Please, leave me alone."

Malik, surprised by the unexpected rejection, stood as well and stared across at the albino, bewildered. This... he had not even considered the fact that the whitenette wanted nothing to do with him in a romantic sense. After all, Ryou admitted to still being in love with him.

Lavender eyes watched passively as Ryou made his way out the door, never once stopping to look back. The bells overhead the entrance doors chimed melodiously, signaling the whitenette's hasty departure.

_He'll never come back. If you let him go now, you'll never see him again. He'll never come back to you._

Malik didn't waste any time rushing after him. Exiting the bakery, he quickly caught up to the petite form, grabbing Ryou by the arm and spinning him around. He could barely detect the glisten of tears in the corner of the older male's eyes.

"What?" Ryou asked, trying to keep his expression as stoic as possible under the given circumstances.

The Egyptian pressed his lips together, swallowing the lump in his throat. To be honest, he really hadn't thought of anything to say during his pursuit of the other. Deciding it would be best if he just forgot the whole morning occurrence even happened, he sighed and heavily placed each of his hands on Ryou's shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said, honestly. "I didn't... I didn't mean for things to turn out this way between us. I've been... I've been, well, --"

"A jerk?" Ryou supplied, glaring evenly at him.

Flushing in embarrassment, Malik laughed nervously. "Yeah, I guess that's the right word. I shouldn't have just... supposed that you'd want to get back together with me. I should have known you'd still be hurt even after all these years."

"Hurt? Malik, I was more than _hurt_!"

"I-I know, Ry, I'm sorry... You know what I'm trying to say. I didn't mean for things to get so bad between us. Because, honestly, Ryou... I do care about you. I care about you as a person, and a part of me still has feelings for you – and I never even realized it until I saw you today. And..." he hung his head, sighing loudly. "I'm sorry. You have no reason to give me another chance... but that's really all I'm asking for. Just another chance. You don't... you don't have to be with me... but just... can we be friends again? Please?"

The whitenette bit down on his lower lip, sucking it s he roved over the option presented to him. Be friends with Malik again? It was something he wanted – Ryou could not deny that. But still... could he risk it? Could he risk entering a relationship – even one of friendship?

He'd promised himself... he'd sworn he'd never get involved with anyone else ever again... He couldn't trust other people – other people who could and would easily break his heart.

And Malik Ishtar was fully capable of breaking his heart – he'd done it once before, and would most likely do it again.

"Have dinner with me," Malik's accented voice reached his ears.

Doe brown eyes blinked, rounding slightly and mirroring their owner's inner turmoil. "I... I can't, Malik. I'm sorry."

"Come on. Please?"

The more he begged, the harder Ryou found it to decline. "M-Malik..."

Those dark, full lips jutted outwards in a rather pathetic pout, giving the Egyptian the appearance of an injured puppy. "I'll treat. Or – you know what, I'll make you dinner. This weekend. This Saturday."

Ryou could not resist for long. Fully knowing he would live to regret this, he nodded his head. "All right."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_I'll try to do it right this time around.  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ryou stood before the full-length mirror, studying the misshapen reflection through the chipped, indented glass. Mocha eyes scrutinized the pale body intently, one scrawny arm trailing upwards, lighting skimming the concave abdomen, brushing across the almost viewable ribs.

His body had changed over the years. Everyone – his customers, his co-workers, Xander – called him beautiful, but was he really? With his too-skinny limbs and hollow stomach, could anyone truly consider him beautiful? They had seen him bare, in this youthful body. He did not resemble a man in any way, nor did he possess the natural grace imparted upon all women at birth. Gazing at himself in the unclean glass, Ryou could not help but feel equally dirty. He was an outcast, not only from society but from his own gender as well.

The things he has done... actually submitting to the desires of drunken slobs barely fit to call themselves men, reducing himself to the level of a common whore. So many times he attempted to convince himself that such was not the case.

_I'm not a whore, I'm not. I have no other path to take. I'm not... I never wanted this._

But who ever is pleased with their future?

Hopes, dreams... who actually achieves those? Certainly not real people. Certainly not the Everyman.

Such was Ryou Bakura; the Everyman – one who once had such beautiful dreams of love and true happiness. In a way, he achieved his goals. Perhaps it was not in the manner he originally believed, but... he did succeed. In a way, he received love – in those filthy men who worshipped his filthy body, bestowing upon it filthy blessings and sullying it with their filthy, primal, mocking rituals of lust.

Though long gone, he still felt the traces of all those men inside of him. They left their mark, implanting their seed in his mind as well as inside his polluted body, wounding his spirit. He seemed proud – oh, how easy it was to seem proud, cock, how easy to pretend in his escapade to woo potential customers and keep his current regulars interested (because, though only twenty-seven, he was almost too old to be in his specific line of business...).

But, frankly, he was nothing more than a young child, innocent yet tainted by the world's many corruptions, abandoned by the light of Heaven that once used to surround him and accentuate his every trait, pour from him with every slight movement.

Did Malik see it? Would he ever see it? Could he sense Ryou's inner turmoil, the flickering flame of light of his soul that, if not tended to soon, risked being snuffed out permanently? Did he return to fuel the fire, or douse it completely?

_What would he do? If he ever found out..._

Turning away from the mirror, Ryou blindly reached out and took into his grasp a small bottle of medication. After fumbling clumsily with the lid, it finally popped open and he swallowed three pills dry. They eased down his throat at a torturously slow pace; he could feel their entire trek downwards.

He was due to arrive at Malik's flat in about half an hour, but after a long, relaxing and refreshing bubble bath – which, as it turned out, was anything but refreshing or relaxing thanks to his frazzled nerves and racing mind – that arriving late would be his course of action, so as not to appear overeager. Under no circumstances was he to appear overexcited about this dinner – after all, it was only a casual get together between two _friends_. Nothing more.

He would not give Malik the impression that he wanted a deeper relationship with the Egyptian, nor would he allow Malik to mistake this evening as an excuse to get laid. Ryou would never put out for the likes of him again, that much was fore sure... it would take a lot of convincing, coupled with a lot of wine (hopefully Malik was prepared to offer neither,) to get the whitenette back into that man's bed.

_Blue shirt or black shirt?_

He contemplated both attires, holding one shirt up to his chest before swapping it for the other color.

_Green shirt,_ he decided, discarding the two articles of clothing in favor of the light green blouse currently sprawled haphazardly across the immaculately pressed bed linens. He slid the material over his shoulders, enjoying the feel of the gentle fabric gliding across his bare skin.

For the briefest of moments, the wanton image of Malik running his large, strong, masculine hands down his arms and cross his body flashed into the whitenette's mind and he shuddered involuntarily, a choked noise that could have passed as either a moan or a sob escaped him.

Shaking his head furiously, he pulled the shirt on and finished buttoning it up – refusing to leave any of the buttons unclasped, not even the top few which he normally left flirtatiously open for the viewing pleasure of all who desired a glimpse of his hairless chest.

After stepping into a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans, he glanced at himself in the mirror once again, gauging his apparel. Very plain, very casual – nothing that screamed 'I'm in dire need of a romantic relationship,' as was his intent. It was boring... boring, safe, conservative Ryou Bakura, just the same as Malik most likely remembered him being.

Rummaging through his small collection of cologne, Ryou yet again made the safe choice – sticking to a plain and simple scent, that being 'Mountain Spring' or something else along those lines; Xander compared it to the smell of water – Ryou just supposed that meant it was fresh. Fresh was good. Fresh was safe. It did not stimulate, only faintly pleased the senses.

The alarm on the digital clock next to the bed started beeping, signaling it was time to depart. Ryou frowned, asking himself for the billionth time whether or not he should actually show up. It would be a nice slap in the face for the Ishtar, to be stood up for once in his life.

Almond eyes rounded sadly, feeling strangely guilty at the thought. No; he couldn't do that. Two wrongs never made a right, as the saying went, and this situation was no exception.

Smoothing out his hair, Ryou took one last look at himself in the mirror, smiled at the overall plainness of his appearance, and exited the bedroom. In the foyer, he slipped on a pair of black boots and shrugged into his winter coat. Then he left, taking care to lock the door behind him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_We're wasting too much time being strong, holding on.  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The doorbell rang at half past eight, and there was only one person Malik knew it could be – seeing as he'd taken care of his _roommate'_s absence for the evening. A smile spread across the attractive face as the Egyptian lit the last of the strategically placed candles, thus perfecting the romantic glow of the apartment.

Yes, he knew Ryou said he wanted this to be a friendly dinner and nothing more, but Malik had spared no expense. He was dying to make a good impression on the whitenette, for reasons still unfathomable to him himself.

Ever since reuniting with his ex-lover, Ryou had been all the blonde could think about. No matter what, he couldn't seem to get the other out of his head – and to be painfully honest, it was getting rather annoying. How was he supposed to live his life if the face of his ex-lover of ten years kept popping into his thoughts? It was distracting.

Maybe he just needed a lay? But he could get that from easier sources than Ryou – who, he already knew, would put up at least a small fight.

No, there was something about Ryou... The innocence that still radiated from him, the beauty his retained even after ten years... Malik desired it, all of him.

Did he want to re-establish a relationship with the whitenette? Quite possibly. But there were several major complications that could ensue if he traveled down that road – one of them being that he didn't know anything about Ryou anymore, other than the fact that the petite male was more attractive than ever, and that he was hormonally attacked by the urge to touch that feather-soft white skin whenever around the older male. That was one of the reasons he planned this whole dinner – aside from the fact that he really did wish to apologize for being such a jerk to Ryou. If the evening progressed well... perhaps there was a future for them after all.

If not, well, he could still try to get Ryou into bed – if only for just one night.

The doorbell sounded once again, twice in a row this time. Malik jumped to his senses and made his way over to the door.

"_It's freezing out here,"_ he heard the soft complaint through the solid wood.

To which he replied: "sorry, I'm coming," and unlocked the two hatches, pulling the door open wide so that Ryou may enter.

Ryou stepped inside, promptly thrusting a bottle of wine – obviously he'd purchased it on the way over – into his host's hands. Malik blinked and glanced down at the cheap label as Ryou shrugged out of his coat.

"Closet's to the left," Malik said absentmindedly, continuing to stare at the bottle. He'd never heard of this brand before. Why did Ryou bring him wine, of all things?

Ryou followed the instructions, opening the closet and setting his coat neatly on one of the empty hangers. After sliding the mirror-door shut, he glanced back over to Malik. "Oh... the wine's for you."

The Egyptian blinked. "What for?" he wondered, heading towards the kitchen to fetch a bottle opener – it would be a waste to never drink it, especially since it was a present from Ryou.

"I don't know... I thought it'd be a nice gesture, you know? A gift for having me over," the whitenette explained lamely, running a hand through his unruly hair and looking around the apartment. Mocha-brown orbs took in the gold sponge-painted walls, and he suddenly was met with the odd sensation that he'd been in this house before in the recent past.

A low whistle escaped his throat as he continued to survey the place and ignored the strange feeling in his gut. "You certainly are living large," he observed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I feel like I've stepped into a King's royal palace."

A low chuckle resounded from the Egyptian as Malik poured two glasses of wine. "Is that a good thing?"

"I guess so, though you have already succeeded and making me seem insignificant."

The blonde appeared at the mouth of the kitchen, a crystal glass of wine held in each hand. "You shouldn't feel that way. You'll never be insignificant in my eyes."

Flushing prettily, Ryou turned his attention on something else other than the charming Egyptian – a painting that hung on the wall opposite of the foyer, off-theme when compared to the rest of the oriental-type theme of the penthouse. It depicted a proudly naked woman with short white-blonde hair and eyes that were closed off from the world, though still leaking tears.

Silver-white eyebrows furrowed in consideration. "... Did you pick this out?" he inquired, slowly.

Malik nodded his head. "Yeah. She's lovely, isn't she?"

Ryou didn't say anything, only continued to stare at the picture, attempting to place exactly when and where had seen it before.

* * *

_A/N: ...So Ryou takes pills. Most likely anti-depressants (I can't exactly blame him..) Who saw that coming? _

_And did anyone catch this new twist I added in? If so, did you expect it? Or is it completely unfathomable? _

_Please review. Tell me what you think!! See you next chapter!_


	10. How It Is: Perfect

_A/N: As usual, I am not entirely happy with this chapter. It's way late, and it's not nearly as good as I'd hoped it would turn out. I feel as if it's too rushed, and for that I apologize profusely. Also sorry if there are any typos... such as, if I by mistake referred to Ryou as a 'she' at certain points, or anything else along those lines. _

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_This broken heart can still survive with a touch of your grace.  
-_-Daughtry (What about Now)  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Flushing prettily, Ryou turned his attention on something else other than the charming Egyptian - a painting that hung on the wall opposite of the foyer, off-theme when compared to the rest of the oriental-type theme of the penthouse. It depicted a proudly naked woman with short white-blonde hair and eyes that were closed off from the world, though still leaking tears.

Silver-white eyebrows furrowed in consideration. "... Did you pick this out?" he inquired, slowly.

Malik nodded his head. "Yeah. She's lovely, isn't she?"

Ryou didn't say anything, only continued to stare at the picture, attempting to place exactly when and where he had seen it before.

A gentle nudge to his shoulder roused him from his thoughts and Ryou turned his head minutely to the side to discover a glass of wine directly in his line of vision. "Oh, no thanks," he declined politely, facing the portrait of the woman once more.

Malik blinked. "You bring me wine and refuse to drink it? Is something wrong with it?" he joked, swirling his drink before raising it to his nose and sniffing it experimentally. "You didn't poison it, did you? Surely you don't hate me that much..."

Ryou grinned playfully in response, adding his two cents of, "that's debatable," before shaking his head. "But seriously... I just can't handle alcohol."

Again Malik presented him with the glass of wine and Ryou found his resistance waning. He refused all the same, shaking his head, stressing that point that he didn't have the stomach to tolerate any sort of alcohol.

"Not even one measly glass? Come on, Ry... You did buy it, so you might as well enjoy it. If you get sick, I'll hold your hair back for you," the blonde promised, flashing another of his winning smiles.

"Charming," Ryou snorted, rolling his eyes.

"I try."

The drink was nearly thrust into his hand, and Ryou had no choice but to accept it reluctantly. With a sigh, he wrapped his fingers around the long stem of the glass and silently vowed that he would not take a single sip from it.

The Egyptian set a hand on the small of his back, guiding his dinner guest into the dining room. The polished wooden table was set for two, a brass candle lit between the place settings, the flame quivering ever-so-slightly.

Ryou noticed a red rose laying innocently on his plate and a slender white eyebrow shot up in surprise. "You're good," he acknowledged, laughing softly as he picked up the rose and fingered the velvety petals. "Oh, you are good, Mr. Ishtar."

Grinning in unabashed self-appraisal, Malik leaned closer. "Is that a good thing?"

Ryou brushed him aside, determined not to fall for the lies. "It would be, if you were trying to pick me up." A teasing look flashed in his eyes, causing Malik's lips to stretch a fraction. "But I'm afraid," the older male continued, "it will take a lot more than a silly rose to win my heart."

"Which is exactly why I made you dinner."

"You're going to entice me with food?" Ryou asked, skeptical.

A smirk. "Not just _food_... food perfectly cooked by yours truly. No one can resist me once I put on that chef's hat."

Ryou openly laughed, moving closer to the Egyptian – feeling slightly more at ease. An old friend. He was conversing with an old friend. It was comfortable, familiar. "Well I don't see a chef's hat," he pointed out. "So I guess you don't plan on wooing me after all."

Malik was silent for a minute or two, contemplating the words and what his response should be. When he next spoke, his deep voice sounded hushed, tentative. He scooted his chair closer to Ryou's, expression devoid of its earlier humor. "Do you wish for me to woo you?"

Automatically, Ryou began to utter a smart retort, but his jaw fell slack as he locked eyes with the Egyptian. Mocha orbs sparkled wondrously as Ryou observed the sincerity in the other's bright lavender eyes, beautifully accentuated with the kohl markings traditional of his heritage.

_Yes,_ he thought, moistening his lips, unable to deny it. _Yes, I do._

He inclined his body in the Egyptian's direction, idly noticing how Malik responded by doing the same. He reached out to him, pale hands twitching in excitement, eager to once more touch the olive-tinted cheeks, brush against the dark, full, inviting lips.

"Malik..."

Malik's larger hand met Ryou's and the whitenette found himself blushing, feeling – and not for the first time in the other's presence – like a giddy young school girl.

Malik kissed the pale palm of Ryou's hand, smiling tenderly.

"Malik," said Ryou again, unable to form any word other than his ex-lover's name.

Malik looked as though he were about to say something, but just in that moment, the stove beeped, signaling that dinner was ready. A sigh escaped the blonde's lip as he released Ryou's hands and stood up. Masking his disappointment about the ruined mood, he smiled.

"Prepare for the best meal of your life."

Ryou gave an amused laugh and watched the other exit the dining room and head to the spacious kitchen. Left alone with his jumbled thoughts, Ryou took the opportunity to look around the romantically lit dining room. The walls were painted a deep shade of burgundy and gold decorations lined the wall shelves. Various pictures were set on top of a china cabinet, most of them of Malik himself, along with his siblings Isis and Rishid.

One of the pictures was turned facedown, which piqued Ryou's interest. Figuring that the frame had been down-turned by mistake, he chose to remedy the situation. He stood from his chair and made his way to the cabinet, opening the door and reaching out for the picture. Once it was in his possession, he flipped it around to see the photograph held within the elegant gold frame.

A startled gasp of recognition escaped his lips.

The photo was of two males, both of whom were strikingly familiar to Ryou. One of them, of course, was Malik – who, in the snapshot, had his arms wrapped possessively around the waist of a young man with outlandish red hair and bright emerald eyes. A golden ring twinkled mockingly up at the picture's viewer.

"_I have twenty-eight hundred pounds for you – for tonight and tomorrow, with me!"_

_He's engaged!_

"_Get on the bed."_

Ryou knew now why this place seemed so familiar. He was not imagining things when he got the impression that he had been there before. He _had _been there... and with... and with...

Malik's husband-to-be.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Can we see beyond the scars and make it to the dawn?  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Malik made his grand appearance for the second time, carrying a small foil-covered tray in his arms. Atop his head, slightly lopsided as if put on in a rush, lay a chef's hat. He set the food down on the table before glancing over at Ryou. Lavender eyes widened slightly as they caught sight of the picture the older male was regarding, and the air suddenly felt hot and thick.

Ryou set the portrait facedown on the table before upturning his head to send Malik a fierce glare. The Egyptian recoiled, taking a step back.

"Ryou," he began, nervously trying to think of a way to explain himself.

"Why did you want me to come over tonight, Malik?" Ryou interrupted, not wanting to hear Malik's explanations. "Is your fiancé out of town for the weekend, so you needed a different source to get a decent fuck out of?"

Malik's throat tightened. "N-no... Ryou, it's not like that at all," he fought to clarify, but Ryou would have none of it.

"Save it," the whitenette snapped. "I don't want to hear anymore of your bullshit. I'm sick of being your plaything, Malik, you hear me? _I'm sick of it_!"

"You don't understand..."

"I understand well enough! I'm nothing to you, Malik... Just a pretty face – that's all you've ever thought of me as. You don't give a damn; you've never cared! This dinner you wanted to make me, to 'make up for being such a jerk'... I'll bet you were just hoping I'd be so moved that I'd spread my legs for you."

Lavender eyes widened at the accusation. Malik fish-mouthed for a few seconds before clamping his jaw shut. Across the room, Ryou breathed heavily, blinking his eyes rapidly in order to rid them of the tears steadily forming.

"R-Ryou…"

Malik's voice sounded rather shaken, as if it were on the verge of cracking. Ryou waited, bitterly hoping that his words packed enough of a truthful punch to reduce the haughty Egyptian to tears. Malik remained silent but Ryou could tell he was mentally raging war against himself.

The whitenette turned away from him, feeling slightly superior now.

"Wait! Don't leave..."

"Give me one good reason to stay, Mr. Ishtar," he replied tersely, not even bothering to face the one he spoke to.

Malik took in a breath of tense air. "I... I love you."

Chocolate-brown eyes fell shut. Ryou shook his head, a whisper of "no, no, no," slipping past his lips as he silently vowed not to be swayed by words alone.

Hearing the faint words, Malik's heart thumped wildly with determination. He would not let Ryou leave. It was a big mistake, pushing the whitenette from his life in the past, and an effort Malik did not wish to repeat. He wanted Ryou, all of Ryou... he needed Ryou with him again, and he would not relent until he could hold his ex-lover in his arms and kiss him to his heart's content.

"Don't say that... Please, don't lie to me anymore."

Maneuvering his way around the table that stood between them, Malik tentatively approached the emotionally stressed albino. Setting his hands on the bony shoulders, he drew the smaller close, resting his chin on the crown of the snow white head.

"I love you, Ryou. I need you. I want to make things right again."

Ryou gazed traveled forlornly to the photograph. "And your fiancé?" he inquired, softly. "Do you love him, too? Do you hold him like this – whisper these same sweet promises into his ear? Do you _love _him?"

Malik shook his head automatically. "N-no... I, well..."

He pictured the redhead in his mind, thinking of the lithe body that quivered delectably under his touch and the sparkle of his emerald eyes, and how gentle yet rough he could be at the same time, and the little dimples that appeared when he smiled, and the golden band that bound them together. Heart lurching painfully at the realization that, yes, he loved Garrett as well, he took a step away from Ryou.

A flicker of pain presented itself in Ryou's mocha orbs before it was quickly doused.

"Yes... Of course I love him. But it's not the same. I love you too, Ryou. I really do. And I know that I've hurt you, and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I don't want to hurt you anymore. I meant it when I said I wanted to make things up to you... because I want you to give me another chance... to be with me, even though I've been a selfish jerk, and I've acted immaturely, and I've hurt you and might unintentionally hurt you again."

Breathing heavily by the end of his little monologue, Malik gripped Ryou tightly, his arms winding around the other.

Ryou gasped softly, momentarily at a loss for words. Oh, how long he'd waited to hear the Egyptian say such a thing – to admit that he was wrong and that he wanted Ryou back in his life. He wanted so much to throw his arms around the blonde and take him back, just like that, and so easily. But he couldn't... something was holding him back for once.

Malik's fiancé...

"Would you leave him?" Ryou asked, voice muffled as his lips were currently pressed against the Egyptian's collarbone thanks to the tight embrace Malik had locked them in. He felt the larger body stiffen and in response balled his hands into fists around the material of Malik's sweater. "Would you leave him for me? If I told you to choose, would you?"

Malik looked uncertain. Stepping out of the smaller male's arms, he peered down at Ryou, studying the dark, tear-clouded brown eyes. He could stare at that face forever, he knew; he could wake up to that angelic face every morning, just as he used to so many years ago. Having Ryou's soft touch against his body whenever he wanted, basking in the pure, innocent presence; it would be simply divine, perfect. No man in his right mind could refuse such a tantalizing offer.

_But... Garrett..._

He couldn't very well abandon his fiancé. Garrett had been waiting so long for them to finally tie the knot. They'd been engaged forever now, it seemed. Garrett was familiar, and Malik did love him. He'd just loved Ryou ten years more, and he'd pushed that love away at first because it frightened him. He wanted his freedom, but with either one he chose (Ryou or Garrett) he would end up losing it – or some of it, at least. Who would he rather give it up for? In his mind's eye, who did he imagine growing old with?

_Ryou..._

It had always been Ryou. Sweet, safe, shy Ryou, who cared about him and put up with his childish mood swings and supported him in whatever he did, gave him all that he could and then some, and continued to love him even after being walked out on.

_But I don't know you anymore. Are you still the same person you were back then? Innocent... and can you still love me like you used to? Could I love you like that again, keep you forever this time? _

Garrett... Malik knew Garrett, everything about him. Ryou was still a mystery – a puzzle of broken feelings he needed to carefully piece back together. It would not be easy; to get Ryou to trust him again fully might even take years in itself. But Malik felt certain he was ready to face the challenge, and that was why after seeing the white-haired male in the restaurant on that fateful evening, he had been unable to stop his pursuit of him.

_But Garrett..._

All of the sudden, Malik's thoughts halted, and every ounce of coherency slipped away as a warm, talented set of lips covered his own, kissing him forcefully.

Too shocked to move, Malik allowed himself to be kissed, his mind going haywire over the sensation of once more having Ryou's lips over his own. Nothing else in the entire world could ever feel this good, this right. Not even Garrett's kisses, rough and stimulating as they were, had the power to render him frozen like this. It was amazing, indescribable almost, the strong emotions pouring into him as Ryou pried his mouth open to deepen the kiss to a frantic, explorative state.

They were teenagers again, deeply in love and proud to be so, holding on to each other for dear life as they engaged in a heated lip-lock, unconcerned of what the world thought of them – for they only needed each other.

_I can't do this,_ the pale-skinned male thought, mentally breaking down. _Garrett... even if he wasn't faithful to Malik, he's still Malik's fiancé! This is his house... it's his place beside Malik, not mine._

All too soon Ryou broke away. Malik sighed softly and dipped his head, eager to plan his mouth on Ryou's again, but the whitenette stepped back. The passion still shone in his mocha orbs, but a serious crease lined his forehead. Heart thudding painfully in his chest, he sighed and gathered strength for the words he was about to say. God above knew this was the last thing he wanted... but, it had to be done. This was not his home. Malik was not his lover anymore; he was committed to someone else.

If Malik couldn't choose him over Garrett, Ryou had no business being there any longer than he already had been.

"Unless you can decide between us, I-I think the best thing for you to do is forget about me."

Malik's eyes widened skeptically and he took a step forward, arm already outstretched to take Ryou back, but the older male shied away from his touch, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," Ryou whispered, turning on his heal and quickly rushing out of the penthouse.

Malik stood there for a moment, arms hanging limply by his sides, a defeated expression on his face. He didn't know whether to give up or hang on for dear life to the miniscule shred of hope that existed for his and Ryou's relationship. For there was still hope; Ryou still loved him, he knew, and he loved Ryou as well. If he allowed the opportunity to slip by, however... chances of the Egyptian ever getting Ryou back were slim to none. And now, now Malik had no doubts in his mind over whether or not he still loved the whitenette. He did. With all of his heart and soul, he'd always loved Ryou.

Even though he loved Garrett as well, even though he hurt Ryou so many times in the past, it did not overrule the fact that he loved Ryou Bakura – had loved him, still loved him, would always love him.

He ran, streaking across the room, almost knocking over a chair in his clumsiness, and exiting the penthouse. He raced to the elevators, frantically pressing at the button to call the machine up to him. His heart thudded in his ears, heart in his throat; Malik felt nauseous. But he kept going.

Ryou had been waiting for ten years... Malik couldn't bear the thought of having him wait any longer.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_What about now? What about today?  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sky darkened to a near pitchy gray, spitting out freezing rain at irregular intervals. On the darkened streets below, several daring people remained. Ryou shivered as he stepped out from underneath the canopy of the upscale building, embracing himself to ward off the cold, cursing himself for moronically forgetting his coat back at Malik's penthouse.

No matter. He could always ask Garrett to bring it to him – he had no doubt in his mind that he'd be seeing the redhead again, after all. During their twenty-four hour session, now that he was able to recall it, Garrett had been unable to get enough of him. He'd certainly be back for more, even though that meant going secretly behind his fiancé's back a second time.

He felt guilty. Who wouldn't? He'd _slept_ with his ex-lover's _fiancé_. What would Malik think if he ever found out?

_What does it matter?_ Ryou thought, bitterly. _I'll never have to worry about it. Garrett would never tell of the affair, and I certainly would never tell either. Even if he did know, why should it bother me so much? It's never going to work... me and him. I was a fool to think... to think things might change. _

The rain began to fall once again. In a matter of seconds, Ryou was soaked to the bone. Water dripped down his face, a mixture of rain and tears. He placed a hand to his face, over his mouth.

_He's exactly the same as he used to be – and even though I love him how he is, I know he won't put my feelings before his own. He didn't even realize he still loved me until tonight – and even those words, I have no way of knowing if they're true. _

Chocolate-brown orbs fell shut. Over the noise of the rain he could faintly make out the sound of his own name being cried out.

_All I want is for him to show me he cares... all I want is for him to want me – only me! I don't want him to have to think about who he would rather be with... If he really loved me, he wouldn't have to think about it, right...?_

"I know you can hear me, Ryou. Come on... please stop."

Sighing, Ryou slowed to a halt and bowed his head. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't walk away. Why? Why couldn't he just end things once and for all? It would save him so much heartache, he knew that. If he left Malik he wouldn't have to feel this pain in his heart every time he thought of the Egyptian, and what they used to have together.

_But will it really help me, or will it just hurt me more? To leave him like this..._

"Let's talk about this..."

_What if we could have that again? What if this is my chance and I'm walking away from it?_

"T-talk about what?" he asked, softly, not particularly in the mood for an in-depth heart-to-heart – even if that was what he and Malik seriously needed to have. All he wanted at the moment was proof – concrete evidence that Malik honestly cared about him and would not break his heart twice. "What's there to talk about?"

"Well, you could tell me why you did that."

"Did what?"

"Um... kissed me, shoved your tongue down my throat, walked down on me afterwards."

Ryou's cheeks reddened. Oh yes, he had done that, hadn't he? Malik was probably most curious at the moment; he did deserve an explanation. What could Ryou say, though? That he just wanted to kiss Malik again, just to satisfy his curiosity and see if it was exactly like the kisses they'd shared ten years ago?

"What... what does it matter?" he countered in an almost playful tone, trying to lighten the mood somewhat, "you've obviously wanted it, judging how you failed to refute that this whole evening wasn't just a ploy to get into my pants."

Malik sputtered. "That's... that's not... Ryou, you know that's not true. That's not what this dinner was about. I wanted to apologize to you! I-I didn't plan to cheat my way into your pants."

"You didn't?"

"No, I was quite hoping you'd let me in willingly."

Ryou's face burned in anger, the humor leaving him. Even if Malik's response was said in a joking manner, he still found it rather offensive. Naturally, due to his profession, those sort of words stung at his pride quite a bit. He regretted ever opening his mouth.

"You're such a pig!" he accused, throwing his fist at the Egyptian's face. "What made you think I would ever – _ever _– do something like that? I'm not some cheap stupid whore that just jumps into the sack with everyone he sees!"

"Ryou! Ryou – baby – _relax_! Relax, I was only kidding! Good God, calm down."

Placing his hands on the whitenette's biceps, Malik forcibly shoved the other away from him, narrowly dodging the aggressive, flying hands.

_No... it doesn't bother me so much, usually. But when he says it... I don't ever want him to know the truth... I don't want him to joke about it, even. It hurts too much... the truth of what I really am. He'd hate me._

"No you weren't joking, you disgusting pervert!"

Malik grabbed Ryou's hands, slippery with rain as they were, squeezed them tightly, and pulled the smaller body closer to his own so that Ryou was flush against him. Smiling down at the pale young man, he began to set the record straight. "I won't deny being a pervert... especially when it comes to you. I also won't say that I haven't thought of making love to you... because I have thought of it, many times, since first seeing you again..."

Ryou's struggling only increased. One of Malik's hands moved to cup the back of the whitenette's head, drawing his face closer.

"And, I won't lie, it crossed my mind tonight. But... that isn't why I asked you to come over. I wanted to make it up to you, because I really am I sorry... and I really do love you."

Covering the pliant mouth with his own, Malik kissed Ryou softly – not wanting to seem too forceful and scare the more emotional of the two away. Ryou finally gave up trying to fight and settled for hugging the Egyptian's hips. Then, amazingly, he began to kiss back.

With the exception of the fact that it tasted of salty tears and rainwater, it was just the same as the brief sample Malik had been treated with in the dining room – Ryou taking control and dominating the kiss after several moments. The blonde, too turned on by Ryou's asserting himself, did nothing to try and shirk this new submissive position.

"You better not be l-lying to me, you jerk," Ryou grumbled as they pulled away for air, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"I'm not. I love you."

"Good. Because I love you too."

Ryou kissed him again, and Malik began to slowly move backwards in the direction of the apartment building. Ryou, who had so deeply desired for something like this to happen – someone to love him, especially if that someone was Malik – could not find the will to fight against this movement, despite the fact that he knew fully well what would happen if he went back upstairs.

He'd given himself to so many men, he figured. What was one more? This was the man he loved, after all... so didn't Malik deserve to have him more than all the rest?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_What if our love never went away?  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The doorman raised a quizzical eyebrow at the pair but remained silent as they passed by. Ryou and Malik failed to acknowledge his existence, stumbling their way to the elevators, fighting not to break their lip-lock if they could avoid it.

Thankfully the elevator was empty and they eagerly entered, entangling themselves within each other's arms as soon as the doors slid shut and concealed them. Ryou had Malik backed up against the wall, his hands around the Egyptian's waist. Malik's own hands were ensnared in Ryou's long mass of silky white hair.

"You know," Malik breathed as the other latched on to his neck. "F-for someone who claims to not want me in their pants... you seem kind of eager to... get me into them."

Ryou made a slight humming noise. "Maybe I want to get into yours. Ever think about that?"

Laughing softly, Malik located Ryou's lips once more and kissed them roughly. "You're really tuning me on, I hope you know."

Ryou pressed himself closer to the Egyptian, feeling the other's excitement through the layers of clothing. "I know." He smirked, which Malik found uncharacteristically sexy of him.

When they reached the top level of the building and the doors opened, Malik's shirt was forgotten on the opposite side of the elevator. When the door to Malik's penthouse slammed shut, Ryou's own shirt lay abandoned in the hallway. Their shoes remained strewn haphazardly by the door, a belt buckle hung innocently over the arm of a dining room chair. In the antechamber, a pair of pants, and just beyond the door rested another pair.

Inside the bedroom, no clothes were needed. Donned in nothing but sweet passion, Ryou and Malik made their ten year belated love.

* * *

_A/N: Hooray, they're together! Unfortunately, because life is not that simple in the HtSaL world, things most likely won't stay so happy for very long. _

_... Review? Please? _


	11. How It Is: Over

Malik awoke the next morning to an empty bed. Lavender eyes narrowed slightly, a dark hand coming to rest against his forehead as the young man slowly regained consciousness, the sleep gradually retreating from his hazy mind. He yawned, dragging a long arm across the length of the bed, feeling the cool rumpled sheets underneath his fingertips. Coming across an odd stain, his brows furrowed.

_What...?_

Bringing his hand close to his face, he sniffed the residue on his fingers cautiously before his eyes widened in recognition. Semen! How had he not noticed sooner? Furthermore, when... and who... how?

_Last night?_

He did not have to think long to recall the events of the previous evening. As soon as he saw the white undershirt haphazardly dangling off foot of the bed (that obviously did not belong to either himself or Garrett, considering its tiny size) everything clicked into place. Lavender eyes widened. Did he really...? With Ryou Bakura? Did it really, finally happen? After so long desiring to feel that baby-soft skin again, touch those rose petal lips with his own once more... did it he finally get his chance?

Judging by the state of the bed, Malik guessed so.

He grinned and sat up, pushing the sheets off of his body and hurriedly getting out of bed. He glanced around the room frantically, searching for any signs of the white-haired man. But no trace of Ryou remained in the room, other than the shirt forgotten on the bed.

Malik shrugged this off and hurriedly threw on a shirt and pair of boxers from his pajama drawer, eagerly calling out the name of his former-lover. (Could he once again call Ryou his lover? They had evidently made love, after all, so technically they were. Malik smiled at this pleasurable thought.)

"Ryou!" he called, exiting his bedroom, nearly tripping on a pair of trousers that rested outside the door.

He glanced down the hallway, quickening his pace and once more crying out the other man's name. Where could Ryou have gone? In the kitchen, perhaps. Ever since they were teenagers, the kitchen had always been Ryou's favorite room in the house – because, Malik recalled with a wry grin, Ryou loved food.

_Doesn't show at all,_ he thought, licking his lips as his mind conjured the image of Ryou's delectable pale body.

Much to the Egyptian's chagrin, the kitchen was devoid of Ryou's presence, as was the dining room and the lavishly-decorated sitting room. As lavender eyes turned to the front door, he noticed Ryou's coat missing. But there was a note taped to the door that he had not noticed the previous evening.

A sudden knife of fear jabbed through his heart and he found his nerves jumping. A note taped to the door... that was ominously familiar to the blonde-haired male.

_Last night..._

As he approached the door, Malik was able to make out his name printed neatly across the top of the scrap of paper, written clearly in Ryou's unmistakable hand.

_**Ryou --**_

_**Things aren't working out.**_

_**-- Malik.**_

Was this his punishment? Was Ryou getting back at him for that?

_... Last night... Ryou..._

"_Say you love me."_

"_I love you... I love you –"_

With a shaking hand, Malik snatched the note from the door, reading it over quickly with anxious lilac orbs.

"—_oh, Goddamn, I LOVE YOU, RYOU!"_

_**Malik –**_

_**Please don't think I'm doing this to spite you. I just couldn't bring myself to tell you to your face. I'm a coward, and you looked so beautiful when you're sleeping. **_

_**Last night meant more to me than you could ever imagine. I wasn't lying when I said I loved you... I do love you. I haven't ever stopped loving you, and I probably will continue to love you until I die. But we can't be together, and I realize it now.**_

_**You're engaged, Malik. You're engaged, and there things about me you don't know – things I could never tell you, because I'm a coward and I'm afraid that you'll hate me if you find out. I've done so many awful things, including what I did last night. It was beautiful, and I loved every moment of it... but it shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry. **_

_**I have a favor to ask you... If you really love me like you said, please forget last night ever happened. Forget about me and marry Garrett and have a happy life together. Its better that way, trust me. **_

_**I have to go now. Thank you for last night.**_

_**Don't try looking for me, please.**_

_**-- Love, Ryou. **_


	12. How It Will Be: Now

_Ah, finally we've reached the last section of the story. Welcome to Part Three. There's not a whole lot left to go..._

_R&R? _

* * *

_How to Save a Life_

**PART THREE --- How It Will Be

* * *

**

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Once more I'll say goodbye to you.  
__-- _(Bullet for my Valentine)All These Things I Hate  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Walking out on him, I mean. And when he was sleeping, too – unable to know that when he awoke after the amazing evening we shared, I would no longer be with him. I felt sick as I taped the note to the door, fearing the scenario was too similar to my own abandonment, afraid that, after finding it, he might come to view all of my actions and words as forms of revenge against him._

_I almost lost my nerve when I returned to the bedroom for my sweater, for he was still soundly sleeping, looking so innocent and hugging the pillow that had previously been supporting my head. I approached him and kissed his forehead, brushing his hair out of his closed eyes and whispering how much I would always love him._

_Then I turned my back on him and the life we could have built together. _

_I took the coward's way out and ran away – far away, to the safety of my apartment where I drowned my sorrows in a bottle of cheap red wine and contemplated suicide. _

_That same night I took a handful of Advil to subdue my pounding headache and returned to Room21, where the stage and my wealthy, hungry customers waited for me. I felt even more ashamed of myself than usual as I allowed the cheering inebriated men to grope me as I passed by, feel me up, and slip money into the narrow slits of my costume._

_My head was a whirlwind of thoughts coupled with the pain of a hangover. I felt sick to my stomach. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't release my legs from around the metal pole, pulsating with the club's hypnotic music and I couldn't stop a middle-aged man from grabbing my ass and suggesting I suck his cock. I couldn't stop Garrett from appearing at my changing room, inviting himself into my room, backing me up against the wall, kissing me, petting me, undressing me, or sliding an hour's worth of payment into my hand. _

"I missed you," he breathed into the dancer's ear.

"I'm not working tonight," Ryou told him, returning the notes. "It's my night off."

Garrett made a whining sound in the back of his throat. Pressing closer to the whitenette, he buried his face in the slender neck and exhaled heavily. His warm breath ghosted over the snowy flesh. Ryou didn't even blink, his expression unreadable to the red-haired man.

"It's my night off," Ryou stated once again, unflinching as Garrett squeezed his arms painfully.

"Ryou," Garrett pleaded, "you don't understand. I need you. _Now_. I'll... I'll pay double to have you tonight!"

Ryou appeared far from flattered by the offer. In fact, his prior nausea returned and he clamped a hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

_I'm not an object... I'm not an object. I'm a person... I am... I need love... that's what I want. That's all._

The years of false love, the superficial evenings spent with customers were suddenly looked upon by Ryou with disgust and contempt. He hated it, hated himself for succumbing to it. Sure, it provided a temporary release but it could never make up for what he lacked in his real life.

"_I love you... I love you – oh, Goddamn, Ryou I LOVE YOU!"_

The whitenette asked for Garrett to leave. "It's my night off... Please go home."

Garrett stood, shocked, staring at Ryou with disbelieving emerald eyes.

Ryou clenched his fists at his side. "Go! Your fiancé is waiting for you, I'm sure!"

Once the redhead finally exited, the prostitute sunk to his knees and began to cry. He couldn't take this constant degradation any longer. He just to be with the one he loved, forever and ever. Why did he take the hardest route? Why did he leave Malik – leave him with Garrett, who sought refuge in strip clubs and so obviously did not love him as much as Ryou.

"Malik... Malik..."

"_...Malik..."_

"_I want you to make love to me, Ryou."_

"_W-what?!"_

_Malik stared at the pale beauty above him, lavender eyes half-lidded and filled with passion. Their sweat mingled, their chests rose and fell in unison as they breathed together. For once, Ryou seemed unsure of himself, and he couldn't think of a reason why. He was used to sex... the motions were something that came natural to him now, and he always pleased his customers._

_But he felt afraid, nervous. Malik was not a customer – not a random stranger looking for a good time. He was not paying for his company. He was not Garrett, he was not Xander. He loved Ryou and Ryou loved him in return – so, so much._

_A pair of warm, dark arms encircled the petite waist of the doe-eyed twenty-seven-year-old. Ryou hesitated a moment before leaning down and brushing his lips against Malik's own, kissing him softly and affectionately._

"_... Are you sure?"_

_Malik nodded and kissed the other male as a form of reassurance. "You've done it before with me," he pointed out with a lopsided grin. "You're the only one I've ever let..." His voice trailed off and he stared into Ryou's eyes meaningfully before repeating his initial request._

_Ryou felt the tears leave his eyes as they became one again after so long._

"_I love you so much..."_

"_I know you do, baby, I know. I love you too, and now I'll... we'll always have each other. We'll be together from now on."_

_Ryou's brown eyes widened, but he remained silent. The image of Garrett's face refused to leave him and he cried at the unfairness of it all, knowing fully well of the decision he would have to make..._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Torn apart at the seams and my dreams turn to tears  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The door to the apartment swung closed at nearly one-thirty in the afternoon. Ryou jerked out of his half-asleep state, wearily blinking his hazy chocolate brown orbs, squinting to block out the sunlight that filled the room. A groan slipped passed his lips as he observed his surroundings, realizing that he was still in the lavatory. Raising an arm from the now-cold water he examined the unattractive wrinkles that shriveled his skin and a tiny smile appeared on his face.

"…ou?"

Lifting his head, Ryou recognized the sound of feet thumping against the wooden floor, the noise becoming more and more apparent. The voice came closer.

"Ryou?!"

A pounding on the bathroom door... The jiggling of the handle... Ryou held a hand to his forehead, moaning in pain and shifting his body in the tub. Water came dangerously close to sloshing over the rim. After a moment or so the door opened to reveal a frantic Xander.

"Ryou!" he cried, vision flying over to the tub. Blue eyes widened slightly as they spotted the slumped figure in the bath. Raising his voice to a yell, he demanded to know, "what are you doing?"

Ryou whined at the volume. "Don't be so loud," he complained, and Xander noticed the nearly-empty bottle overturned by the lip of the tub. "...Trying to sleep."

Xander let out a breath in frustration. "You haven't answered your phone for two days straight. I've been worried sick about you! I-I thought something might have happened – someone might have taken you, hurt you – and here you've been, inebriating yourself."

Ryou looked away, unable to meet the condescending gaze Xander sent him. He felt like such a disappointment to the other man. A flush of shame stained his cheeks as a hiccup escaped him. Lowering himself in the water, he mumbled an apology.

Xander shook his head, sighed once more, and removed a towel from the rack. "Let's just get you out of here before you drown..."

The whitenette cooperated with the gentle tug on his arm, slowly bringing himself to his feet. The cool water dripped down his legs and passive mocha orbs watched as Xander removed the plug and the water slowly began to drain away.

"Its winter... you shouldn't be staying in the bath until the water's cold. You'll get sick," Xander explained as he padded the pale skin lightly before draping the towel around Ryou's shivering, knobby shoulders.

Ryou nodded absently, feeling much like a child being scolded by his father. A soft gasp escaped him as Xander swept his knees out from under his body, hoisting him into his arms. The white-haired young man blushed and looked at his friend questioningly. Xander just smiled.

"You're in no condition to be walking. I'll just carry you... Then I'll help you dress, and we should probably have a talk. You went to go see Malik, didn't you?"

Ryou's brown eyes widened skeptically and Xander knew it was the truth. The blonde-haired man toed open the door to Ryou's small bedroom, setting the smaller male on the unmade bed once he reached the ledge of it. Ryou sat, still appearing dumbfounded. The towel hung loosely around him, clinging to his otherwise naked and damp body, and Xander couldn't help but hate all the other men who were privileged enough to touch the soft white skin; they didn't know how lucky they were, those undeserving bastards... they could never truly appreciate the full extent of Ryou's beauty like Xander could.

The younger man's voice came out in a whisper. "I'm sorry..." Xander tore his eyes away from the angelic body to lock gazes with Ryou. The prostitute continued in a slow, sorrowful tone. "I was weak, and he was _right there_... and I wanted him so much. If only for just one night, I... I wanted to be with him, to have him love me, to pretend... to pretend I'd be with him forever." Shakily he grasped on to Xander's large hand. "He's engaged," he confided in his friend, his sentences becoming rambled and less coherent, "and I still... I-I'm a horrible person. I deserve to be alone."

"Relax," Xander soothed, dropping his voice to a more comforting tone. "You're not a horrible person. You're just confused, that's all. You have a lot going on in that pretty little head of yours. Cupping Ryou's chin, he tilted the younger's face upwards. Ryou's eyes were unfocused. Xander leaned forward and placed a kiss to the petal-pink lips. "And you're not alone. I'm here with you, and I won't ever leave you."

"Everyone leaves me," Ryou said hollowly.

The older man tightened his clutch on Ryou's chin, his fingers pressing into the round, rose-tinted cheeks. "I'll die before I leave you." Relaxing his grip, he brought his hand up to weave through the silken white locks, still soaked with bathwater. The strands clung to his fingers, becoming knotted around slim digits. Ryou cooed softly under the touch.

"... I don't want to think anymore," he breathed, going back to Xander's earlier comment of the many hectic things going on in his mind. "I just want it all to go away..." Slowly he leaned back until he connected with the mattress.

"I know." Picking up on his study of Ryou's body, Xander's ice blue eyes roamed over the slender figure. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder all the places where Malik had touched the fragile whitenette.

He could see various red spots, but where they left over from Malik or a customer?

Xander moved to sit beside the young man, his hand never ceasing to fiddle with the silver-white locks. "I know. Rest now."

Ryou's chocolate eyes closed slowly, his breath evening out. Xander smiled wryly and watched over him as he slept.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Wear your heart on your sleeve, make things hard to believe  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"... Did you have company last night?"

Malik blinked lazily and raised his tired lavender orbs in the direction of the one who had addressed him. Garrett stood in the doorway of the sitting room, his arms crossed over his chest and one fire-red eyebrow perfectly arched in inquiry. The Egyptian male's focus flickered briefly to the ring glistening proudly on the pale man's left hand before he returned his gaze back to the magazine he had been reading prior to the interruption.

"Last night?" he repeated, pretending to think on it. The last thing he wanted to think about at the moment was the previous evening. He still had not come to terms with the fact that Ryou left him – for good this time. After their beautiful, unforgettable night of lovemaking, he'd had to wake up to an empty bed.

Now he knew how Ryou must have felt all those years ago... finding just a note...

The letter pleaded for him to not be resentful, but still Malik couldn't help the bitter anger that welled inside of his heart whenever the words crossed his mind. Despite his attempts to convince the Egyptian otherwise, Malik guessed that part of the reason Ryou left secretly was out of spite. He wanted Malik to know that hurt, Malik knew he did.

But at the same time... Ryou was not that sort of person. He never acted upon grudges; he was not cruel enough to do so. He would not up and leave after such a night of passion in order to extract revenge. No... Ryou was only doing what his morals told him – wasn't that what the whitenette always did?

Malik sighed. _Ryou is so pure,_ he thought, sadly. _Even now, after all these years... He's never been corrupted. He's not a sinner like me. Even though he shouldn't care about Garrett, he won't even let me cheat on my own fiancé._

_**Forget about me and marry Garrett and have a happy life together.**_

The words refused to leave his mind. He only snapped back to attention when he felt the mattress shift – Garrett's emerald orbs boring holes in his head. Malik met his gaze evenly, not the least bit intimidated by the other male.

"No," he stated monotonously. "I didn't have company."

Garrett's eyes narrowed a fraction. For a moment he said nothing, only continued to study his fiancé's handsomely bronzed face, searching for a hint of dishonesty.

Malik's nostrils flared.

A spark of triumph lit up Garrett's countenance as he found what he sought. Typically, Malik was a very good liar; but when he was uneasy about the fib he was telling, or there was a deep desire inside of him to tell the truth when instead he told a lie, his nostrils briefly flared.

"Your nostrils are flaring," he pointed out.

Malik brought a hand to his nose, touching it experimentally with his thumb and index finger. "They are not," he disagreed.

"They were. You're lying to me."

Malik appeared offended by this accusation. Leaning away from the redhead, he shook his head quickly. "What the Hell? Why would I be lying to you?" he demanded to know.

Garrett rolled his eyes. "Gee, I don't know, to cover your ass, maybe?" He removed something from his left pocket, handling it carefully, and revealed it to his fiancé.

A thin silver wristlet rested comfortably in the palm of his hand, a circular charm bearing a capitalized cursive letter 'R' dangling against his thumb. Malik blinked his lavender eyes, studying it curiously although he instantly recognized who it belonged to. Where had Ryou left it behind? More importantly, how could he have forgotten it? Did he leave it intentionally, hoping Garrett would find it?

"I found this on the floor," Garrett explained in a cool voice, "next to our bed. It was lying underneath a white tank top."

Malik recalled the white shirt on the foot of the bed and knew it also belonged to Ryou. He'd made a vow to hide it after washing the bed sheets, but it seemed as if he'd forgotten to do so. "Your point?" he demanded, keeping his tone lackadaisical and turning the page of the magazine once again.

"My point is that you're a liar. There was someone here last night. Tell me who."

"What does it matter?"

"It matters because I want to know."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Malik slapped the magazine down on the coffee table. "Just a friend from high school."

"Just a friend, huh?" Garrett quoted, snorting afterwards. "And what need did this 'friend' of yours have to remove his shirt?"

Malik rose from the sofa, smoothing out the creases in his shirt and brushing aside thoughts of his and Ryou's activities the night before. "I don't have time for your jealousy, Garrett. Nothing happened. Just forget about it."

"For get about --?"

"—I'm late for work," Malik said, curtly. "Excuse me."

Garrett watched him as he exited the room and headed towards the foyer. "Wait," he called after him.

Malik turned to face his fiancé, his expression relaying his boredom with the current conversation. Garrett's face fell as he studied his lover, noticing the rigidity of his stance and the tightly clenched fists and the set jaw and the tears in his eyes that refused to fall.

"_Did you ever have anyone else...?"_

_The Egyptian male blinked, glancing down at Garrett curiously. The two were sprawled luxuriously across his bed, their limbs entangled and the gold sheets covering their nakedness._

_Tilting his head to the side, Malik repeated, "anyone else...?"_

"_Before me," Garrett clarified, "was there anyone else that you... that you were in love with?"_

_He wanted the answer to be 'no', but he knew that wasn't likely. Malik's eyes told volumes of a lost love – a love that was either unrequited or that he terminated himself – a love that never disappeared from his mind, even after a many-year separation. _

_This... this was not a subject they touched on often. Malik avoided the subject of love like the plague, skittering away whenever it was brought up. Now was no different than any of the other times, as Garrett could feel the hard body tensing up next to him. _

_The redhead sighed; he hated to bring up painful memories, but he just wanted his lover to be honest with him. Malik... Malik was a good person, but he seemed to have so many secrets. Garrett wanted Malik to tell him everything, to be truthful with his problems, but Malik... Malik was the type of person who preferred solving problems on his own rather than relying on the help of others – even if it was his own lover who wanted to know, Malik would never reveal his secrets. _

_Why, wondered Garrett, casting his emerald orbs to the ground in defeat; why doesn't he trust me? _

"Just tell me his name," Garrett begged, gripping the silver bracelet tightly in his hands.

He knew Malik cheated on him, even if the Egyptian didn't say anything. And he was willing to forgive him – he'd be a hypocrite if he didn't, considering he'd done the same thing (and with a complete stranger, no less; although, Ryou could hardly be considered a stranger now, with how frequently he occupied the redhead's mind).

Malik stared at him emotionlessly. Garrett speculated, since it was capable of disappearing so quickly, if the love between them had ever really existed. Shrugging into his black jacket, Malik sighed and shook his head.

"Ryou," he stated simply.

The word was enough to make Garrett step back in shock. His green eyes widened in bewilderment, his jaw slackening in surprise. For a moment, he fish-mouthed, unable to find any words that could properly convey the extent of his confusion.

"R-Ryou?" he gasped, voice an octave higher than usual.

Malik nodded his head, perplexed by his fiancé's reaction; he reached for the doorknob.

Garrett stuttered again, unable to fathom the thought of his lover actually seeking company from _Room21_. Malik seemed too noble to ever do such a thing. "As in... the-the _prostitute_?"

Malik's hand froze, poised perfectly about the knob. Lavender orbs narrowed slightly. Whipping around to face Garrett again, he asked in a low voice bridled with suspicion and disbelief, "the _what_?"

* * *

_Please review...? _


	13. How It Will Be: Always

_A/N: Whooaaa... I apologize for the extreme lateness of this chapter. Seriously. I lost inspiration midway through it, but then today I was hit with inspiration like a bus or something... Anyways, please enjoy this chapter, even though it is quite a tear-jerker (in my opinion... but maybe I just get sad easily?) And don't forget to leave a little review for me afterwards, please!_

* * *

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Let me apologize to begin with_.  
-- (Linkin Park) In Between  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Just tell me his name," Garrett begged, gripping the silver bracelet tightly in his hands.

He knew Malik cheated on him, even if the Egyptian didn't say anything. And he was willing to forgive him – he'd be a hypocrite if he didn't, considering he'd done the same thing (and with a complete stranger, no less; although, Ryou could hardly be considered a stranger now, with how frequently he occupied the redhead's mind).

Malik stared at him emotionlessly. Garrett speculated, since it was capable of disappearing so quickly, if the love between them had ever really existed. Shrugging into his black jacket, Malik sighed and shook his head.

"Ryou," he stated simply.

The word was enough to make Garrett step back in shock. His green eyes widened in bewilderment, his jaw slackening in surprise. For a moment, he fish-mouthed, unable to find any words that could properly convey the extent of his confusion.

"R-Ryou?" he gasped, voice an octave higher than usual.

Malik nodded his head, perplexed by his fiancé's reaction; he reached for the doorknob.

Garrett stuttered again, unable to fathom the thought of his lover actually seeking company from _Room21_. Malik seemed too noble to ever do such a thing. "As in... the-the _prostitute_?"

Malik's hand froze, poised perfectly about the knob. Lavender orbs narrowed slightly. Whipping around to face Garrett again, he asked in a low voice bridled with suspicion and disbelief, "the _what_?"

Garrett bit down on his lower lip, wondering if he'd made a mistake in assuming the identity of Malik's mysterious ex-lover. Ryou wasn't exactly a common name in these parts, but the redhead was sure that the Ryou of _Room21_ was not the only Ryou. Although, what were the odds that there would be two people with such an uncommon name in the same city?

Seeing Malik's demanding stair, he slowly repeated himself. "The... there's a dancer at _Room21_," he explained, wetting his lips, "named Ryou. It-it might just be a coincidence –"

"— And how would you know this?" Malik's voice was rising considerably, fueled no doubt by his suspicions, his jealousy, and his anger.

"I've... been there. Seen him."

"Slept with him?" Malik accused, lavender eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

Well, it was now or never. Garrett figured the truth of his little affair with Ryou would come out eventually, and he supposed he'd rather have Malik find out directly through him than through the grapevine. Slowly, very slowly, he inclined his head to confirm Malik's uncertainties.

Malik made a frustrated noise, fisting his hands in his perfect blonde hair and tugging at the tresses as if the action would somehow bring him relief instead of more pain. "I-I can't believe – how? – When? When did this happen? _How many times_?"

Taking a step away from his fiancé, Garrett began to fiddle with his hands. "A few weeks ago, when you were out of town... And it's... we've... a few times."

Emerald orbs watched Malik carefully, taking in his reaction. At first, the Egyptian male looked as if he was ready to murder someone, but gradually his expression began to change, the intense anger draining away to reveal an inconsolable sadness. Malik's brilliant amethyst eyes dulled to a lifeless lavender, and his grip on his hair loosened slightly. He was saying something, but Garrett had trouble hearing what it was.

..._**there things about me you don't know – things I could never tell you...**_

Malik felt as if his perfect world was crashing down around him. Not only had his fiancé cheated on him – on more than one occasion, might he add – but he had cheated on him with Malik's own ex-lover. And the evening before... that night with Ryou... It was just...

_**...because I'm a coward and I'm afraid that you'll hate me if you find out**_

Malik never felt so humiliated in his life. How had he not realized it sooner? The answer was staring him right in the face the entire time, and a clue of it rested upstairs in his bedroom in the form of a hastily scrawled note.

_**...Forget about me and marry Garrett and have a happy life together.**_

How else would Ryou know his fiancé's name? It wasn't as if the Egyptian had made a point to actually tell Ryou he was engaged, after all. But Ryou had known... Ryou had known all along, and he still...

_**...I've done so many awful things, including what I did last night.**_

_He did it on purpose_, Malik realized, lilac orbs widening slightly in recognition. _He was jealous... so he decided to sleep with me and Garrett in order to cause a fight like this – to break us up._

While the idea seemed like ludicrous at first – after all, this was _Ryou Bakura_ he was talking about; the man wasn't known for holding grudges – the more Malik thought on it the more sense it made. Why wouldn't Ryou do something like this? If he really was a prostitute now, a plan such as this would not require him to sink any lower, reputation-wise.

_Whore,_ Malik seethed._ That whore... nothing but a cheap slut._

_**...Don't try looking for me, please.**_

Standing to his full height, Malik straightened his shoulders and set his jaw, pinning Garrett with a questioning stare. "_Room21_, you said?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Between my pride and my promise.  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Room21_ was jumping with its typical riotous crowd, voices chattering loudly over the upbeat techno music. A thick fog of cigarette smoke hung in the air, coupled wit the smell of various alcohol and body odor. Outside a storm raged.

Valon Dawe held his position behind the bar, mopping up a puddle of beer from the countertop with a wet rag. He sighed once the mess was cleaned, dropping the rag and crossing his toned arms over his chest. Ever since his shift started he hadn't been in the best of moods. Taking into consideration that he'd already been forced to call a bouncer over to break up a heated fight, it was understandable why his spirits were not at their typical high.

The brunette was not quite prepared – especially now, in this disposition – to receive an emotionally distressed Ryou Bakura. Actually, since this one of the dancer's nights off, Valon was surprised to eve see Ryou near the premises of _Room21_.

"This is the only place he won't find me," Ryou explained, after catching Valon's skeptical expression.

The words only served to further bewilder the Aussie, but after a moment Valon shrugged his shoulders indifferently and proceeded to mix Ryou's favorite drink.

Ryou gave him a thin-lipped smile as a glass filled with an orange-red liquid was presented to him, taking a generous sip and smacking his lips afterwards.

Valon leaned over the counter, chin in hand, and waited eagerly for the gossip. "So," he prompted, "who is this '_he'_ you're trying to escape from?"

Frowning, the whitenette skillfully changed the subject. "You don't happen to have a fag on you, by chance?"

Blue eyes blinked curiously and Valon reached into his back pocket, pulling out a small carton of cigarettes. "Though you didn't smoke..."

"I don't," Ryou said, nodding, "but I might start. I hear it's a great stress reliever."

"... It's also a great way to get cancer," Valon informed as he handed Ryou the cigarette and a lighter.

Ryou took the offered items. "Smart-aleck," he chastised, lighting the cigarette and raising it to his lips.

After taking a drag, he blew the smoke in Valon's face. The bartender remained unfazed by the action, merely quirking an eyebrow at the white-haired male and holding back a smirk as he watched the younger try and keep from coughing. Sensing his amusement, Ryou repeated the action, this time hiding his unease quite well.

Valon rolled his eyes and nabbed the cigarette right out from under Ryou's nose. "Give me that." As the whitenette uttered a protest, he crushed the fag in the nearest ashtray and then pinned his fellow Room21 employee with a curious stare. Ryou avoided his gaze and took a long sip of his drink. The bartender sighed, "what are you doing, Ryou?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." But when Ryou gave no indication to prove that point, Valon continued, elaborating with, "what are you doing _here_?"

Ryou was silent, staring at his drink forlornly. After a minute or so, he shook his head. "I don't know... I didn't know where else to go, and I had to go somewhere. I couldn't stay home..." Sighing heavily, he lowered himself down so that his head was pillowed in his arms. "I-I can't stop thinking about him, Valon."

"Him?"

"... I know it's wrong, that I shouldn't be... but I can't help it. I love him so much... it's hard to forget about love, right? You-you would never forget about Alistair."

Valon blinked and once again crossed his arms over his chest. "I take it you aren't talking about Xander," he guessed; he knew fully well of Ryou's _suitor_. "The other one, then. Malik?"

Ryou's body tensed, then relaxed – a good indicator that Valon struck gold. "He's engaged," the whitenette mumbled, tonelessly. "And I... I slept with his fiancé. More than once."

In a small voice, the dancer retold the story to the intrigued bartender, who in turn whistled lowly at the end of it.

"I don't know what to tell you, Ryou. It sounds like you've done the right thing, but... that's made you completely miserable." He thought for a moment before asking, "did you ever consider that Malik wanted you back just as much as you wanted him? You shouldn't be so afraid to think he might love you still."

"... He wouldn't love me if he knew about what I am... He would be so ashamed."

"But if he loved you, he'd get over it."

"I could never tell him..."

Valon didn't say anything more, knowing it would be futile to try and change Ryou's mind. Ryou nursed half of his drink before pushing it aside. As he was about to reach into his pocket, the bartender placed a hand on his shoulder, halting him.

"It's on the house," Valon told him, offering a kind smile which Ryou – with a little trouble – returned.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Cheer up, eh?"

Nodding, Ryou slid off of his barstool and began walking towards the club's exit. Xander was probably waiting for him back at the apartment, so he figured it would be best to avoid an argument with him and just head home. But first... he still needed some time alone, to clear his thoughts and reaffirm that the choice he made had been the right one.

He brushed passed the dance floor, taking a quick glance at the small stage where he could see Vivian dancing solo. The whitenette slid behind the platform, unnoticed by the captivated attendants of Vivian's spectacle, and quickly arrived at his dressing room door – which, to his surprise, was ajar.

Curious, Ryou placed his hand on the knob and pushed the door open. The lights were on, and someone was standing in front of the body-length mirror – someone Ryou knew all-too well, and dreaded seeing.

"Malik..."

The blonde didn't turn to face the older man. Instead, he kept facing the mirror. Ryou closed the door behind him, taking care to slide the lock into place as he did so. Afterwards, he approached the Egyptian.

"How did you find out?" he asked, not bothering to try and pretend to be innocent. If Malik was there, in his dressing room of all places, he obviously knew that this was where his former lover now worked.

The slight downward twitch of Malik's lips was the only movement from the stoic male. "So it's true then?" he finally spoke.

Ryou hesitated a moment, not quite sure what to say to that. "... It depends on what you've heard," he answered slowly, for certainly there were many rumors that surrounded him given his line of work.

The twitch reappeared, and a faint growl emitted from the Egyptian. To Ryou, the other male seemed to be waging a mental war with himself – and losing, if the subtle shaking of his shoulders was any indication of the emotions taking over the younger male.

"That you... that you do _this_." Malik did not need to elaborate on what 'this' was, but he decided to do so anyways. "Whore yourself."

Ryou visibly flinched at the choice of words. In all of his years at Room21, he always tried to convince himself that what he did was different than what a hooker did on a nightly basis – that he was different than the common streetwalker. He had morals, even if it didn't seem like it. He had pride, even though there wasn't much of it left to speak of. He was still... human. He wasn't just some machine that spread his legs every night just because he wanted sex. He needed the money; this was the only place...

"It's not like that…" he began softly, slowly raising his eyes to meet Malik's only to drop them just as quickly as he caught sight of the furious look in the other man's eyes.

"Of course it's like that! Look at where you work – you're a prostitute, Ryou! You spread your legs for any slimy man willing to give you a buck!"

Ryou suddenly felt very small and aware of his own dirtiness. Who was he kidding? Malik was right. He was just a whore. Even if his reasons for taking this job were different than most, the fact still remained that he sold his body to high-paying customers – that he slept around with men and probably destroyed numerous amounts of beautiful relationships; Malik and Garrett were living proof of that. No... he was even worse than the common whore, because he actually made his customers pay _more_ for him than they would for just an average hooker.

"... And there I was thinking that what we had the other night meant something to you," Malik was saying, an angry snarl on his face that caused Ryou to take a step away from him. "Obviously for you it was just another night on the job. What, were you looking for a new regular? Your old ones getting tired of you or something? Or perhaps you were feeling generous – maybe you decided to give me a freebie since I used to be your lover."

Ryou's voice was shaky as he spoke. "Malik... don't..."

"Well how much do you usually charge, Ryou?" the blonde-haired man asked, reaching into his back pocket and removing his wallet. "How much do any of these worthless assholes pay to have you suck on their cock, huh? How much for a good fuck?"

"Don't..."

The whitenette couldn't find a voice to speak with. Never in his life had he ever felt more humiliated, and the sinking feeling in his stomach only increased as Malik began to throw money at him. The paper bills fluttered to the floor, landing at the dancer's feet mockingly.

"How much, Ryou? Is this enough?" Another note dropped and Malik advanced on the pale-skinned man. Ryou didn't move, only gasped softly as Malik grabbed his hair and forced him into a kneeling position. "Can I get you on your back with this?"

Tears began to form in Ryou's eyes, and not for the first time, he regretted ever letting Malik wriggle back into his life. "It wasn't like that!" he cried, cheeks burning in embarrassment. After all that had happened between them, Malik still didn't believe that he loved him. "That night meant more to me than-than any amount of money! I love you, Malik, I-I –"

"Don't give me that bullshit. You don't know what love means."

"I love you! I love you – I've always loved you!"

Malik tugged on his hair to get him to shut up and Ryou screamed in frustration and agony. Why was this happening to him? All he'd ever wanted was to forget Malik Ishtar ever even existed. Why did he have to come back... why did he have to be in love with him still?

"I-I told you not to... I told you to stay away from me, Malik," Ryou sobbed, "I knew things would end up like this... You-you'd never understand... But you should understand. It was your fault, after all." Accusing mocha orbs glared up at the dark-skinned male, and Ryou actually felt hatred towards him. "If I'd never laid eyes on you... If I never loved you, I... this never would have happened to me!"

"Don't try to make me feel guilty."

"No, I want you to feel guilty, Malik Ishtar!" Ryou said, slowly standing back up. "I want you to know what you put me through." He straightened his posture, trying to regain a semblance of dignity and failing. "You're right. Every night... every night I give myself to a complete stranger, and I get good money for it. But every night, I have to have a different man touch me – do disgusting, filthy things to me. Every night I sleep with another man... I have to see another man's face, when the only face I want to see – the only face I've e-ever wanted to see – beside me is yours. And after all the years I've had to endure that pain... I think the _least_ you could feel is a little bit of guilt. Now..."

Ryou raised a hand and pointed stiffly to the door. "Get out. And take your money with you. Consider the other night a gift if you want, but don't ever come back here again. Leave me alone – for good this time."

Malik didn't say anything at first, only kept his livid amethyst eyes focused on the whitenette. After several moments, he stormed out of the room, leaving the pile of notes on the floor at Ryou's feet. The sound of the door swinging shut behind him echoed in the changing room, and when he was gone Ryou fell to the floor and began to sob, knowing now that the final shred of hope in his heart had been demolished and once again his heart lay in ruins.

This time, however, there would never be anyone to pick up the pieces.

* * *

_A/N: Um... Malik is an asshole. I seriously wanted to slap him in the face while I was writing this chapter. _

_HtSaL is almost over! I'm so happy... it's finally approaching the final chapters! Only two more left, I believe! Thank the Lord... I might actually finish a fanfic for once in my life. _

_Please review!_


	14. How It Will Be: Forever

_Lawli: What's this? Can it be? It is! I'm actually updating this fanfic! It's a miracle!

* * *

_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_I'm terrified; I think that I may be losing my mind.  
_- Losing My Mind (Maroon 5)  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_What have I done, what have I done, what have I done, what have I done?_

Little else besides the phrase occupied Ryou's mind as the reality of the situation finally settled in on the bus ride back to his apartment.

He'd destroyed it... the little happiness he'd had in his new life was gone. He could no longer go on working at _Room21_, he'd never allow himself to be degraded and treated as a whore again – though, after Malik's display from earlier, he figured nothing could be more mortifying and degrading.

_Malik_...

He'd been such a fool... How could he have though that the one night he spent with Malik – that night of bliss, of rapture, of true love – would change anything? He was still a prostitute, and Malik was still engaged – and now, Malik hated him, and Garrett probably did too. He'd destroyed several lives, not just his own. Ryou felt sick to his stomach. He held a hand over his mouth as a precaution.

_How could I have been so stupid? I knew it would be trouble to get involved with him, I knew that, but still I... When he said those words to me, said he loved me, I couldn't tear myself away from him. I loved him too much... too much..._

He lifted his eyes slightly, noticing an elderly woman on the opposite side of the vehicle staring at him with a look of sympathy on her wrinkled features. Ryou couldn't bear to look at her; he didn't deserve anyone's sympathy – not after what he had done. No, he deserved to be looked upon with loathing, screamed at, hated... he deserved anger, rage – Malik's rage, his insults, as much as they hurt.

_Never again... I'll never see him again. He'll hate me forever; he'll never forgive me for deceiving him like that. I'm a disgrace to him. A slut..._

The bus halted at his stop and Ryou exited, heading towards his apartment building at a slow pace. No doubt Xander would be inside, pacing in front of the door awaiting his arrival just so he could yell in his face about how worried he'd been.

"_Where were you? Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"_ Ryou could hear it now – and he heard it again the second he opened the door, as those were the very words he was greeted with.

Ryou didn't bother to answer, only slipped passed him, stepping out of his shoes but not bothering to put them on the appropriate matt – a single clue that informed Xander that something was amiss. Something was wrong.

"What happened?" he demanded to know, stepping towards the white-haired man.

Ryou glanced at him over his shoulder but then shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. "Nothing."

"Bullshit, nothing!" Xander walked over to him, grabbing him by the upper arms and forcing those mocha eyes to stare directly up at his face. "Something happened... someone hurt you."

Ryou stiffened before shaking his head. "No, it was n-nothing."

"Someone hurt you," Xander repeated, a furious heat blazing in his ice-blue eyes. "Who was it? Tell me, Ryou," he pressed when it looked as if he wouldn't get an answer.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ryou averted his eyes to the floor. "It was nothing, I just... I just... I ran into... M-Malik. He knows." Bowing his head, Ryou tried to fight back the tears forming in his bloodshot eyes. "He knows the truth."

Unable to stop himself, he fell against Xander, sobs beginning to wrack his frail body once again. Xander stood frozen for a moment before coming to his senses and wrapping his arms around Ryou in a comforting embrace. He held the whitenette tightly, burying his head in the silken hair and inhaling sharply before pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

"It's okay, Ryou... It's okay." He attempted to soothe him, but Ryou was inconsolable.

"N-no, it's not okay." Ryou's voice was muffled against Xander's chest. "He hates me... He hates me, Xander! H-he knows what a w-whore I am... he h-hates me."

Xander's blood boiled and he felt an uncontrollable anger sweep over him, blinding him with such an intense hate that, for a minute or so, he could only see red. Malik... Malik hurt Ryou. Malik Ishtar made his Ryou cry... and not for the first time. Xander's arms tightened around Ryou to an almost painful degree.

Malik Ishtar did this...

Neither of the men said anything more. They stayed in the embrace until Ryou's sobs had, for the most part, ceased and the whitenette sniffled and voiced that he was going to go take a bath. Xander released him and watched as he slowly made his way to the bathroom and disappeared from sight.

Clenching his fists, Xander entered Ryou's room, taking a seat on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, a million thoughts racing through his mind, all centered around one individual. Malik Ishtar. Malik Ishtar would pay for this, dearly.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Somehow, not speaking lets me know everything.  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_What have I done, what have I done, what have I done, what have I done?_

Images from the encounter with Ryou flew across Malik's mind, and he remember with growing horror the words he'd said – the way he called Ryou those names, tossed money in his face, looked at him in the disdain that most save for common whores and beggers.

_But that's what he is. That's what he _is.

Malik tried to focus on his anger – on the rage he'd felt upon learning of Ryou's true occupation, and realizing that his own fiancé had slept with the whitenette. Ryou betrayed him – Ryou deceived him, he kept telling himself. Ryou was a whore, a liar and a cheater, and he deserved to be detested and looked down upon. He was just another slut, no better than the rest of the filth employed at _Room21_.

_But he's not. Ryou's... he's not. Even if he does... sleep with men for money, even if he is a prostitute, he's not a whore. Ryou's not like that._

"_Every night I give myself to a complete stranger, and I get good money for it. But every night, I have to have a different man touch me – do disgusting, filthy things to me. Every night I sleep with another man... I have to see another man's face, when the only face I want to see – the only face I've e-ever wanted to see – beside me is yours!"_

Malik felt his heart lurch as the words repeated in his head, over and over again. He hadn't felt guilty after shooting down Ryou's professions of love, after accusing him for not even knowing what love meant because of his occupation, but now... Malik felt as though his insides were being eaten away. He felt shocked, disturbed by the words that he'd said – unable to believe that he'd been so cruel.

He'd been so angry, he hadn't even thought about what he was saying...

_Ryou... oh, God, what have I done to you? _

Feeling overwhelmed with self-loathing, Malik had to actually stop in his tracks and lean heavily against the nearest lamppost. He felt as though he was going to be sick – he wanted to hurl, hurl up every disgusting insult that he'd thrown at Ryou; he wanted to purge himself of the wickedness that had overcome him not even an hour ago.

Lavender eyes fell shut and Malik placed a hand to his head to ward off the ache growing more and more noticeable by the second.

What was he going to do? He'd look like a fool if he went back and apologized, even if he wanted to. Besides, he doubted that Ryou would want to see him right now; his apology would most definitely be thrown back in his face; Ryou had no reason to forgive him. Not this time. He'd gone too far, burned the last bridge. How would Ryou ever forgive him?

_He forgave me in the past... he said he still loved me, even after what I did to him... But I'd never called him a slut in the past. I've never thrown money at him in the past. _

Malik wouldn't be surprised if Ryou never wanted to see him again.

He would never want to see himself again.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Malik pushed off of the lamppost and began walking again. The streets had gotten colder with the absence of the sun, and with the shadow that now covered his heart even wrapping his arms around himself did nothing to keep the chill away from his body.

Hanging his head very slightly, he continued down the street, looking altogether like a man who'd been defeated by life. And really, he felt defeated – what did he have left? His relationship with Ryou could be kissed goodbye; Ryou would never take him back now, and Malik couldn't blame him. His engagement was teetering on the edge of collapse, but Malik didn't even know if he cared about that – if he even cared about Garrett anymore. Garrett had cheated on him, several times. And while Malik had done the same... it was different.

Malik had to face facts. While he and Garrett connected on many levels, and while he did love the redhead very much... he could never marry Garrett. He'd been engaged to the man for five years now, and he didn't plan on actually tying the knot – now especially. There was no way he could spend the rest of his life with Garrett.

No... the only person he wanted was Ryou. And now, thanks to his own stupidity and his own quick temper and his own stupid _big mouth_ he would never have that.

He would never have Ryou. And if he couldn't have Ryou – Ryou, who he loved, even if he did sell himself (because he wasn't a whore, he really wasn't, he couldn't be; Malik refused to believe that, he knew Ryou had more pride than that) – then he didn't want anyone. He would never love anyone else to the extent that he loved Bakura Ryou.

_But it won't be fair to Garrett if I leave him now. We were both wrong. We're both cheaters and liars but... we do love each other. And I promised him. I can't just leave him, even if I want to._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_But I got my freedom now, don't I?  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Garrett hadn't moved since Malik stormed out of the house earlier that evening. He'd fallen back onto the sofa after the door slammed shut, breathless, and had been unable to stand since. He sat frozen; with his mind reeling and his heart racing and his eyes leaking tears that he had long since thought himself too masculine to cry.

The whole situation was just ridiculous. Really – two lovers sleeping with (in love with?) the same man. He and Malik both with Ryou. It was like something from a messed up fairytale, only certain there would be no _happily ever after_ in this – not for Garrett, at least. For Malik and Ryou... perhaps, but Garrett hoped not. If he couldn't be allowed the happiness of spending his life with the one he loved, then it didn't seem fair that Ryou and Malik both could be together.

The lock of the door clicked open. Malik was home. Garrett sat up straight and dried his face off. He hadn't been crying too much, thankfully, and so was presentable when the door opened to reveal a distraught Malik Ishtar.

Garrett didn't know what to think when he saw his fiancé walk through the door. He'd never seen Malik look so miserable before, and they'd known each other for quite a long time. Malik had always been strong, tough – never one to be brought down by emotions like sorrow. But now, Malik was drowning in a sea of misery and Garrett could only stand back and watch the sluggish movements of his would-be husband entering their home and trudging down the hallway.

He didn't even stop to acknowledge Garrett. Garrett wondered if Malik even saw him.

"_Sometimes, when you look at me... I can't help but think that you're seeing someone else."_

_Malik smiled. "That's ridiculous, Garrett. There's no one else I'd want to see but you."_

"_I know, but... I just feel that way. Call me stupid, but... I don't know. Your eyes change sometimes, when you're looking at me," Garrett explained, his own green eyes focusing on the wooden floor of the other's dormitory. _

_He was almost twenty years old, but he was scared – he was scared because he was in love with Malik Ishtar, and he'd never been in love before, and when Malik looked at him Garrett wanted to be one-hundred percent certain that he was the only one the Egyptian was looking at._

_Malik had many secrets, Garrett knew that; many skeletons buried deep – deep, way deep – in the closet, so deep that Garrett could never hope to uncover them this early on in their relationship. But Garrett hated secrets, he saw no need for them; they could only cause damage, only come back to haunt them and destroy them. He wanted Malik to be honest with him; he wanted to know everything about the Egyptian._

_He wanted to know that Malik loved him, only him. He was nineteen years old and in love and a fool, and Malik was the only thing he wanted._

"_Well... you don't have to worry. I always see you, only you."_

Garrett closed his eyes, a soft sigh escaping him as he sat back down on the sofa. _You never saw me then. And now, you don't see me at all.

* * *

_

Lawli: Okay, this is so much angst that even I, the authoress, am getting depressed just by writing it. Honestly. This is a bit shorter than I intended it to be, but I wanted to update it now before I go on vacation. Hope it didn't bring everyone's spirits down too much! Haha. Happy Christmas to all who celebrate it, and Happy New Year too!


	15. How It Will Be: Never

_Lawli: Is it..? Is it..?! Holy mother of God, it is an actual freaking update for How to Save a Life! I'd like to say thanks to my friend Kip, because if she hadn't pestered and pestered and PESTERED me (and sent me really, really hawt Malik cosplay pics as a bribe) I probably wouldn't be updating right now. _

_But anyways.. yhrow rocks at me later for not updating sooner. Now, just read the chapter since you've been waiting so long._

* * *

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_And I'd give up forever to touch you, cause I know that you  
__feel me somehow.  
_-- Goo Goo Dolls (Iris)  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Garrett was torn between staying on the couch and going into the bedroom. As much as he really didn't want to see Malik at the moment (a feeling he knew was probably shared by his fiancé) the couch was not the most comfortable place to sleep – this he knew from experience.

For several hours he'd stayed in the living room, restless and too occupied with thoughts more important than where he was going to sleep. But now it was late and he could feel fatigue creeping over him. His eyes hurt, whether from producing too many tears or being kept open for too long Garrett wasn't sure; he settled on deciding that it was a mix of both.

It was late – or rather, it was early; almost three in the morning. Malik had to be asleep by this point. If he was quiet, maybe he could sneak into their room without waking the Egyptian? Garrett wasn't too sure if he felt up to sleeping beside the other man; even if Malik was his fiancé – even if Garrett did still love him – too much had happened. It would be too awkward to just lay there beside him like he normally did, because of how much had changed.

Sighing, Garrett stood from the couch and began to make his way to the master bedroom. He would try to lay down. If it was too weird, he would take his pillow to the couch. Carefully he opened the bedroom door, wincing as the un-oiled hinges creaked in protest.

Malik was asleep with his back towards Garrett, the sheets pooled around his hips. Garrett stared at him for several moments

Really, he should be kicking Malik out of the bedroom. Because Malik was the one at fault here, wasn't he? Garrett wanted to believe that so badly. It would make things so much easier to deal with if he could just blame Malik for everything. But Garrett knew that, as much as Malik had been at fault he had been as well. He couldn't forget about the nights he spent with Ryou.

_I wouldn't have had to be with Ryou if Malik... if he'd paid a little bit more attention. If he hadn't always looked at me as if I was someone else... If he'd just been honest from the beginning..._

Garrett's emerald eyes trailed to his left hand, at the engagement ring that sparkled on his finger. Just looking at it left a bitter taste in his mouth, and filled him with the desire to just take it off and throw it out the nearest window. As if to act on this impulse, he twisted the ring with his right thumb and index finger until it was loose enough to slide off. Then he sighed, shaking his head and dropping his hands down to his sides.

_What am I doing?_

He'd worn it for five years. He wasn't about to take it off now – even if now it seemed as though the chances of them getting married were lower than ever.

But how long was too long? He couldn't keep waiting like this. Especially not now, when things were unraveling so quickly. Either he and Malik picked up the pieces of their shattered relationship or... or...

Garrett couldn't think about it.

He kept the ring on his finger, lips forming a determined line as he closed the distance between himself and the bed.

It wouldn't have to come to that, would it? Leaving Malik...

No, no... He'd worked so hard to keep them together, waited so long, and he wouldn't... he _wouldn't_ let Malik slip away from him so easily.

Garrett crawled onto the bed, looking down at Malik. He hovered over the other man, placing one hand on either side of him. Then he leaned down, touching his lips to the juncture where Malik's shoulder and neck met. Malik hummed in his sleep as Garrett trailed kisses across his neck, the Egyptian rolling onto his back. He was still asleep, but evidently the ministrations still registered in his mind as made evident by the pleased smile on his face.

"_Ryou..._"

The name caused Garrett to pause and his fingers to tighten around the bed sheets. He pulled his lips away from the other's neck and after a minute of silence got off the bed. Grabbing his pillow resolvedly, he walked back over to the door.

"Garrett."

Garrett hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to look back at Malik but eventually doing so anyways. His green eyes appeared darker than normal, and maybe they were – darkened by anger, by betrayal.

"I just came to get this," Garrett told Malik, showing his pillow to the older man. "Good night."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

'_Cause sooner or later it's over._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was nearing three in the morning when Xander entered Ryou's bedroom. He stood in the sliver of light that leaked into the room from the hallway, staring down at the bed and the young man asleep on it. It was strange how going from conscious to unconscious could alter a person's appearance so drastically. Xander marveled at the look of serenity on Ryou's face as he slowly approached the bed.

The whitenette, overtaxed with emotions, had worn himself out and most likely fallen asleep right as he hit the mattress, not giving himself enough time to even get under the covers. He must have come straight from taking a bath, for a towel was haphazardly tied around his waist, riding low on his hips as a result of his moving during the course of the night. His hair fanned out around his head, looking like a halo of sorts that glowed a brilliant shade of silver in the moonlight. Loosely, Ryou's arms were wrapped around the nearest pillow; he held it at if it were a lover.

Xander smiled as he reached the side of the bed and carefully, so as not to disturb Ryou, moved the other man's arms to free the pillow from his grasp. He managed to do this without waking the younger male, though Ryou did whine softly. After removing his shirt and tossing it carelessly to the ground, Xander eased himself onto the mattress, laying down beside Ryou and offering himself up as compensation for taking the pillow away. He guided Ryou's arm around his waist, afterwards curling his own arm around the other to secure their embrace.

Ryou sighed contentedly, shifting slightly in his sleep and pressing closer to the older man and nuzzling his face against the hollow of Xander's throat. Xander could feel the dried tears on Ryou's skin and held him just a little bit tighter.

"Oh, Ryou," he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment and then opening them again to stare at the top of the other's head.

He'd gone out to cool down, but at the realization that Ryou had cried himself (all alone) Xander felt his anger flaring right back up again. It killed him to see the other man in so much pain. What he would give to take it away... to just see a smile on his face again.

He wanted Ryou to be happy. For as long as he'd known the younger male, Ryou had always been a step behind achieving true happiness, and it was all because of one person. Malik Ishtar. For leaving him, Malik had forced Ryou into a life he hated living, and by walking back into his life he'd distorted the path back to normalcy that Ryou had been trying to forge.

As much as Xander hated the man, he couldn't help but feel a little bit grateful that Malik hurt Ryou the first time. If Malik never left Ryou all those many years ago, Xander never would have gotten to meet the one person he loved more than anything.

That Malik hurt Ryou a second time, however, was unforgivable, and as the man who loved Ryou more than anything Xander had to see that this sin did not go unpunished. Some would say that this wasn't his business – he wasn't involved, he didn't know both sides of the story, he should just stay out of it and let things work themselves out – but Xander didn't care. The minute a tear fell from Ryou's eye, it became his business, and he didn't care what he had to do – he would make Malik pay for this. He didn't know yet, but he would.

Ryou shifted again, tilting his head upwards and cracking his eyes open. He blinked as he realized he was laying next to Xander and tried to pull back, only to be prevented from doing so by the arms around him.

"X-Xander," he whispered, locking eyes with the older man.

Xander leaned down, covering Ryou's lips with his own. The whitenette stiffened, his chocolate eyes widening in surprise; his initial response was to break the kiss – he hadn't even expected Xander to be in the room, much less in the bed with him and kissing him like this, and besides... he wasn't working, he had no obligation to kiss back. Xander was his best friend and all, but displays of affection like this were the last thing Ryou wanted at the moment. He didn't mind being held – he did want that – but Xander was crossing a line.

Xander kept his lips firmly over Ryou's own, prying his lips apart and forcing his tongue into the other's mouth. A muffled sound escaped Ryou's throat, swallowed by Xander's mouth as the older man continued his exploration, swirling his tongue around Ryou's in an attempt to get him to respond.

Ryou's hands moved up to push against Xander's chest, and when the older man finally pulled away Ryou glared at him weakly. Xander only stared back down at him blankly, at a loss for what to do. After a minute, Ryou shook his head and moved forward again to place his head on the other's chest.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Xander buried his hand in the other's hair, running his fingers through the silken locks. "It's all right," he assured.

"No it's not, I..." Ryou shook his head again and placed a kiss on Xander's collarbone.

"It's all right," Xander restated, lips twitching into a smile. "I was just trying to distract you... but I shouldn't have done that. It wasn't right."

Ryou did agree to this, murmuring quietly in response. Xander averted his gaze to the ceiling, tracing the swirling pattern of the pain idly with his eyes. A comfortable silence settled between them, during which Ryou cuddled closer to him.

"Ryou?" he asked, softly.

He could fee the tickle of the other's long lashes against his skin as Ryou closed his eyes. It made him smile, wish that they could lay together like this every night. And they could... they could.

If only...

"Do you love me, Ryou?"

Only silence greeted him. By the slow and even manner in which Ryou's chest was rising and falling, Xander could tell that he'd fallen back asleep already.

He knew, however, that even if Ryou had been awake... the answer he received would not have been any different.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The smell off coffee drew Garrett out of his sleep. He sat up on the couch, bringing a hand up to the back of his head and trying to smooth his hair down to no avail. Yawning, his emerald eyes scanned the room, widening a fraction as they spotted Malik standing in the entryway. The Egyptian was already dressed in a pair of fitted jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, his hair slightly damp as if he'd just gotten out of the shower a few minutes ago. In his hands were two mugs of coffee.

"Hey," he greeted, speaking in a softer tone of voice than usual. Garrett recognized that tone; it was the one people used when they were ashamed of themselves.

Hi," Garrett replied, in a tone that more or less mirrored that of his fiancé's.

Malik took a step into the living room before stopping suddenly, his lavender eyes locking on Garrett's as though asking for permission to go further. Only when Garrett nodded did he walk over to the couch and hand Garrett the extra mug of coffee. A peace offering. Garrett stared at it coolly and then his lips twitched into a smile. He took the mug, very much grateful for the caffeine; he would need to be awake for the conversation he knew was about to come.

Malik seated himself on the armchair, crossing his legs and taking slow sips of his coffee. A silence that could not exactly be described as comfortable or uncomfortable settled between them, neither man doing anything to break it. They sat on their separate sofas and drank coffee, alternating from looking at each other and the floor or ceiling.

Finally, Garrett broke the ice (for they both knew that if he didn't then they wouldn't be speaking that morning). "So..." he set his mug down on the table in front of the couch. "What are we going to do, Malik?"

The Egyptian shook his head, because he honestly had no idea. This was obviously not the sort of response Garrett wanted, judging by the frustrated sigh that escaped him.

"Do you love me or not?"

Lavender eyes locked on emerald green. They were wide, scared. Garrett couldn't stand to look at them, seeing the confusion present there.

Malik didn't know. Malik didn't know if he loved him. After all those years, Malik _didn't know_.

"Garrett, I—"

"I don't want to hear it." The words came out colder than Garrett meant for them to be. "I just... I don't want your excuses anymore." He held out his left hand for Malik to see. "What I want to know is if I have a reason to wear this anymore. If you have no plans of committing to me, then I don't know what the hell we're doing pretending still. If you don't love me... if you don't want to marry me, then just _tell_ me. I've already wasted more than five years on you, Malik."

"Wasted?"

Garrett's eyes narrowed angrily. "Yes, wasted! Five years, Malik; we've been engaged for five years!" He pressed a hand to his forehead, rubbing at his temples in irritation. "And I don't care... I love you, and I'm willing to wait until you're ready. But Malik, I need to know that you're actually serious about this. About me."

Malik wet his lips nervously. "I love you."

Garrett didn't know if he could believe him anymore. Did Malik want him, or did Malik want him only to replace that which he couldn't have? Garrett needed to know that Malik wouldn't always imagine Ryou whenever Garrett kissed him.

"I love you," Malik said, standing from the armchair and moving over to the couch Garrett sat on. "And I know I've been an idiot... we've both been idiots, but I want to try to move on."

_Don't lie to me, Malik Ishtar. Please, we've lied enough. _

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_When everything feels like the movies._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Alistair called."

It was a week and a half after the night Ryou kept trying to forget about, and the whitenette stood in front of the kitchen sink, his arms elbow-deep in water as he scrubbed dinner plates. Xander stood at the other end of the counter, putting leftovers in plastic Tupperware for the next day's lunch. Xander had been coming over every day, sometimes staying the entire day. Ryou didn't mind this, though he really would have appreciated more time to himself. Especially now.

"When?" Xander wondered, sealing a container shut and bringing it to the fridge.

"This morning."

Xander nodded and closed the door of the fridge. When Ryou didn't say anything further, he prompted, "what did he want?"

Ryou set a plate in the strainer to dry and then swiped his bangs out of his eyes, trying to appear nonchalant even though what he was about to say terrified him. "He... wants me to go in tomorrow night."

"...I thought you quit."

Ryou hurriedly busied himself with scrubbing another dish. "I did, I did, I... I gave them my two week's notice, and Alistair's been very understanding. But he... he wants me to do an encore performance. As a goodbye, of sorts, before the two weeks officially ends. I-I'm not going to be with anyone, I already told him that. Just one dance."

"So you're going to do it?" Xander didn't' sound pleased at all with this idea.

The whitenette exhaled loudly, closing his eyes. "I don't want to go back there, too much has happened, but I... Alistair's done so much for me over the years. And all he wants is for me to dance one more time. I... I can do that for him." Hesitantly he looked over at the older man, who had fallen silent. "Are you angry?"

As he asked the question, he wondered to himself why it mattered if Xander was angry. This was Ryou's decision and Ryou's alone. Xander had nothing to do with it. _Room21_ didn't have any horrendous memories to Xander, so why did it matter to him at all? If Ryou could brush aside his fear and walk on that stage one last time, then that was all that mattered. He didn't need Xander's approval, even though it would be nice to have.

Ryou had to do this for himself. To say goodbye to this life, and then he could finally move on.

"Just be careful," Xander replied. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Ryou smiled. There was no way he could possibly get any more hurt than he already had been.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_You bleed just to know you're alive._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The lights were bright on his face. The music was loud – was it always this loud? Pulsating through his veins, and his body moved in accordance to the rhythm, becoming one with the music as he was so used to doing. It felt different tonight. Still natural, still effortless. But different, somehow. Maybe because he knew this was the last time he would ever set foot on this stage, this was the last time he would ever look out into this audience.

Ryou was smiling during his final performance, the jeers of what in the past could have been his customers not even registering in his ears as he grabbed hold of the pole to his right and swung himself out and then back in, curling a leg around it and tossing his head back.

Chocolate eyes opened in the middle of the dance to just watch everything around him, take it all in. When the music finally ended and he took his final bow on the center of the stage, his heart felt light in his chest.

And then it felt as though it had stopped altogether, as in the middle of the crowd he saw none other than Malik Ishtar.

* * *

_Lawli: Oh my god I'm so happy this freaking story is almost finished! One more chapter to go, and its already mostly written!! :D Thanks to everyone who's actually stuck with this story. _


	16. How It Will Be: Silenced

_Lawli: Here it is, the final chapter! And it's extra-long, to make up for the extra-long wait! I want to thank all of my patient reviewers who stuck with this story and those of you who PMed me to tell me to continue! It was you guys who gave me the motivation to finish this thing. And even though I know most of you won't be satisfied with the ending, I hope you've enjoyed the fic anyways!_

_Warning: Character death._

* * *

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Step one you say we need to talk  
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk  
He smiles politely back at you  
You stare politely right on through  
Some sort of window to your right  
As he goes left and you stay right  
Between the lines of fear and blame  
You begin to wonder why you came  
_-- The Fray (How to Save a Life)  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He'd almost fallen off the stage.

Seeing Malik's face unexpectedly among those of the other club-goers came as such a surprise that Ryou's body froze up, his mind unable to remember such simple functions as moving – hell, he barely recalled how to breathe. All he could see was Malik's face, all he knew where those sparkling amethyst eyes which blessedly weren't looking at him with the contempt they had been the last time the two were both at _Room21_ together.

Thankfully he'd managed to catch himself, but after a small apology (followed by several loudly voiced complaints) Ryou cut his performance short and walked off the stage for the final time, not able to summon the courage to look back. He wanted to run to his dressing room but it was pointless, seeing as Malik already knew where it was and would easily find him there.

_Why is this happening again? Why won't he just leave me alone?_

He'd thought this was it – his goodbye, his farewell to this life and all that had come before it. He thought he had the future to look forward to now.

In the near distance Ryou could make out the glowing red letters of the EXIT sign that hung directly above the back door. Alistair would have to pardon his leaving so early – then again, it didn't matter what Alistair thought since Ryou no longer worked for him, though he would hate to part on bad terms. Ryou just couldn't deal with this. Not tonight. He just wanted to go home. Xander would be there, Xander would comfort him. Xander would hold him and know just what to say and _oh, God, why was this happening again_?

"Ryou!"

_No. _

Ryou's hand was on the doorknob, fiddling with it and finally twisting it open. All he had to do was walk out the door – walk away and never look back to see the face that tried and succeeded at haunting him for the past ten years.

"Ryou, wait! Please!"

_No, no, no, don't follow me!_

He had to ignore it. If he turned around Ryou knew his resolve would disintegrate. He'd turn to putty in Malik's hands and let the other man hurt him again.

The door opened and he stepped outside. He could hear Malik's persistent footsteps behind him, and then felt a warm hand on his forearm.

"M-Malik," he whispered, closing his eyes tightly.

It was raining outside, and though there was a small awning that covered a partial amount of the alley that separated Room21 from another building it was not big enough to stop the rain pouring from the sky from quickly drenching their clothes.

The hand on his arm traveled up, caressing his neck and then cupping his jaw, thumb brushing reverently over his pale cheeks and Ryou didn't know what to make of any of this. Why was Malik acting like this now? Ryou wanted to say something rude – say something about how Malik would have to pay just like any other man now that he thought he knew what type of person Ryou was – but the words wouldn't leave his mouth.

Feeling Malik's intense eyes boring into him, Ryou hesitantly met his gaze, surprised at the sincerity on the other's face. Still Malik hadn't said anything, though he continued to caress Ryou's face as though it were a cherished possession. Unbidden, a blush spread across his cheeks as the pad of Malik's thumb traced his lips.

Finally able to find a voice, Ryou asked quietly, "what do you want?"

Malik didn't make any indication of having heard the question at first, but then he started to shake his head slowly. "I couldn't stay away," he admitted, and Ryou didn't know if he was being honest or not as he continued. "I needed to see you. Needed to make things right again."

Malik had always been a good actor. Many times in the past (and even recently) Ryou had fallen for his acts. Was that all this was, just another act? How could he ever be sure? Ryou wanted to believe in Malik, he really did; but he'd been lied to so much that it was hard to completely put his faith back in the other man.

"...Right?" Ryou repeated. Was there a _'right'_ in this situation?

He didn't want to be hurt again.

Yet... without Malik, his heart would always be hurting. Aching for him – his touch, his love, everything. Losing him again would hurt more than anything else.

The kiss was unexpected. Ryou had been about to shake himself from these crazy thoughts about being with Malik – after all, it could never happen; his and Malik's relationship was doomed for failure from the very start – when suddenly he felt a pair of soft, familiar lips against his own.

A small sound escaped him as Ryou fought mentally with himself about whether to return the kiss or pull away from it. He ended up doing neither; remaining motionless where he was and allowing Malik to kiss him as passionately as he could without the ministrations being returned. Realizing that Ryou was not reacting, Malik slowly pulled back, leaving only a small bit of room between them. Ryou could feel Malik's breath ghosting over his jaw each time the younger male exhaled.

He closed his eyes and released a small, shuddering breath. "Malik... please, don't—"

"—_I love you_!"

Neither of them spoke. The only sound that could be heard was that of their ragged breathing and the notorious thump of the dance club to the right of them. The two figures – one deathly pale and scantily clad, the other darkly bronzed and donned in all black – were both sufficiently drenched by the rain pouring in torrents from the sky.

Ryou couldn't believe what he'd just heard. The unanticipated confession made his heart leap into his throat. "Wha... _what.._?"

"I love you," Malik repeated, looking as though he was just realizing what he was saying was actually true. He spoke in a voice much firmer this time.

Ryou was stunned. He stood against the brick wall, mocha orbs impossibly wide, chest heaving. "Malik... I..."

"Shh..." the Egyptian interrupted, placing a finger to Ryou's petal-pink lips in order to silence him. His hand dropped back down to his side after a moment, immediately seeking out that of his partner's before hesitantly cupping the paler, smaller appendage. "We're leaving. You're coming with me, and you're never coming back to this place again."

He tugged urgently on the whitenette's hand, pulling the older male after him as he headed towards the exit of the alleyway.

"B-but Malik," Ryou stuttered, tripping over his own two feet as he was dragged along. After a moment of struggling he managed to wrench his hand free, which halted both of them. "I-I can't just... leave."

Malik nodded his head. "Of course you can," he assured. "You can... you have to. We'll leave together – we'll get the hell away from this place." He took hold of the whitenette's frail shoulders. "Don't you see? We can be together... let's go back to that house on the beach. Our house, Ryou, _our house_. Let's go back there. Things can be like they were back then... I promise. We can be happy... finally happy, together. Don't you want to be happy? Ryou, I love you!"

The pale-skinned man looked away, his eyes glazed over and distant. Malik stared at him, waiting for a response that seemed as if would never come. He gave his shoulders a mild shake. Ryou whined, but made no other attempt to respond.

"Ryou... Ryou, baby, I love you." The Egyptian's voice had turned rather shaky, fear penetrating his perfect lavender orbs. "You still love me... don't you...?"

Ryou sniffed, his petite body trembling with restrained tears and the cold. "Of course I still love you... I never stopped loving you, Malik; you know that."

"Then let's go!" Malik insisted. "What have we got to lose? Let's leave this place... let's run away together!"

Ryou shook his head fervently from side to side, dripping locks of silver-white hair sticking to the sides of his face as a result. He brought his hands up to dry his wet eyes. "It isn't that simple, Malik... I... I want to, I really do, but... so much as happened and I..." he sighed, eyes falling shut with irresolution. "I just don't know anymore..."

The Egyptian appeared crestfallen. He stood numbly, grip on Ryou falling lax, the rain soaking his clothes thoroughly.

This wasn't how Malik envisioned the situation. Ryou was supposed to agree wholeheartedly with his suggestion. They were supposed to kiss heatedly, swear their undying love for one another, and run off together away from this place of nightmares.

Why... why was Ryou refusing him all of the sudden?

...Was he too late? Did he do something wrong again? Had Ryou really taken to heart the cruel things Malik had said on their last meeting? No, Ryou would understand... Malik had just been angry, is all – he hadn't meant those things, hadn't meant to hurt Ryou. Ryou had to understand that... But if he did, why was he acting this way?

Had Ryou already moved on? Did he really still love him, or was that just a lie spoken to please the Egyptian? From what he gathered, Ryou did that very often – lie; in fact, the whitenette's entire profession (if prostitution could even be referred to as an actual profession) was based on telling lies and performing false actions of love.

"Ryou..."

Ryou bit down on his lip, unclosing his eyes in order to gaze forlornly up at the Egyptian. "I'm sorry, Malik... I..." he took a step back, glancing over his shoulder anxiously. "I have to go. I just left the stage like that, I should go back, I... I'm sorry."

He turned on his heel, making to run back inside, but Malik was faster. He grabbed the skinny wrist and pulled the whitenette back forcefully, tearing a startled yelp from the other's throat in the process. The noise was quickly muffled by the pair of dark, full lips that smothered his mouth.

The pale form quivered in both fear and anticipation, and the combination of the bitter rain on his bare arms and the warmth of Malik holding him so tightly caused the tiny hairs on his neck to stand erect. He fell limp in the embrace, grasping the material of Malik's waterlogged sweatshirt and hanging on to it as if it was a last lifeline. Frantically Ryou kissed him back, desperately needing the reassurance of Malik's love for him.

The kiss deepened, progressing rapidly with the addition of tongues and the frenzied hands that wandered up and down Ryou's back, eventually getting tangled in the long mass of silken white hair.

Ryou whimpered and pressed himself closer to the blonde-haired male. Tears stained his flushed cheeks and, after they broke away for air, Malik lapped them up greedily. Ryou shivered delightfully in his arms.

"Come with me," Malik begged, his strong arms tightening around the tapered waist. "I can't leave without you – I _won't_ leave without you. I need you, Ryou. I love you."

Ryou buried his face in the tanned neck, meekly nodding his head. "I'll go... I'll go," he whispered softly against the pumping vein on the slippery-wet throat. "I love you, Malik."

Malik pulled away, slightly unwilling to break the intimate contact. He took Ryou's hand in his own once more, raising it to his lips and kissing the pasty, bony knuckles and the tips of Ryou's fingers. Ryou squeezed his hand reassuringly, a shaky smile appearing on his face.

They both nodded in unison and, with no further objections, Ryou followed Malik loyally out of the alley.

A door slammed shut – the back door of_ Room21_. The sudden noise caused both Ryou and Malik to jump and whirl around.

Chocolate-brown orbs widened a fraction in recognition.

"Xander!" Ryou cried, shocked to see him standing there.

The older man fixed an angered glare on Ryou, freezing the young dancer in his place and sending a spark of panic into his heart.

"Where do you think you're going?" Xander asked, not directing the question at either of them in particular. He advanced several steps towards the pair.

Instinctively, Malik tugged on Ryou's arm to pull the whitenette behind himself – his body acting as a full-length shield. Lavender orbs narrowed in suspicion.

"Think you can just take my fiancé away from me, do you?"

Xander's steely blue gaze was now focused entirely on Malik, who appeared taken aback by the wording.

"Fiancé...?" he repeated, and heard Ryou echoing the word in an equally perplexed tone.

"Ryou," Xander explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "My fiancé."

Ryou screwed up his eyebrows, jaw slackening. "X-Xander... what are you talking about?" he wanted to know, finding the circumstances extremely awkward.

He'd never agreed to marry Xander, had he? No... He was jealous over Malik's impending wedding with Garrett and so had considered making up a story about being engaged to Xander... but he'd never gone through with it. He'd never said Xander was his fiancé – nor did Xander ever even ask to marry him; they'd never even discussed such a thing!

"I-I'm not... I'm not your fiancé, Xander. You're just my friend, my client."

The attempted reasoning did nothing to quell Xander's rage. In fact, it only fuelled his infuriation. He snarled at the petite male. "So you will fuck me but you won't marry me, is that it? You little slut. You dirty whore."

Ryou flinched at the insults, tears stinging his eyes once again. That was the first time Xander ever referred to him so cruelly. He was so confused. What was happening? One moment he was kissing Malik, truly happy and completely prepared to follow him to the ends of the Earth. And then Xander appeared – Xander, his supposed friend, the man he'd turned to in times of emotional crisis, the man whose shoulder he'd cried on so many times, the man who comforted him and cared for him, who took him out for dinner and to the art museum – claiming they were engaged to be married, calling him a whore.

"How dare you talk to Ryou like that, you slimy bastard!" Malik yelled, baring his teeth menacingly, lilac eyes flashing. Faintly he heard Ryou whisper his name.

Xander smirked, beginning to walk forward once again, one arm concealed behind his back. "So..." he said, eyeing the Egyptian up and down distastefully. "You must be the one Ryou speaks of so often. Malik Ishtar?"

Malik growled low in his throat, raising his eyes. By this point, Xander stood a mere two feet out of arms' reach.

"I've heard so much about you – your beauty, your charm... I've wanted to meet you for quite some time now."

Keeping his guard up, the shorter blonde asked: "oh, really?"

Xander nodded in affirmation. "Yes... I've been eager to see you in person, to finally defend Ryou's honor."

Ryou and Malik exchanged glances, both feeling rather lost. The whitenette stepped forward, about to say something, but Xander acted more quickly.

Without warning the larger man lashed out physically, punching Malik square in the jaw before kneeing him in the stomach. The Egyptian doubled over in pain. Ryou screamed, immediately rushing to catch him before Malik could collapse on the floor – only to be stopped by the vice-like grip on his upper arm. Xander pulled him away from Malik, whose breath was now coming out in small wheezes.

"Malik!" Ryou cried, struggling to free himself from Xander's strong hold. He glared at the older man hatefully, earning only an amused smirk from the half-Frenchman. "Xander, what has gotten into you? Let me go!"

"Little whore. I've already told you countless times – you're mine. You're my Ryou. My friend, my whore – mine, mine, _mine_. No one else should even be allowed to look at you. In fact, from this moment on, I forbid it. I forbid you to go near another man!"

Ryou sobbed. "You can't speak to me like this! I am not your possession –!"

"But you _are_ my possession. Starting now, you're mine. _Mine_ – no one else's. You will be my wife."

As Xander brought out his once-concealed arm, Ryou braced himself and waited for the contact of Xander's fist against his body. Instead, Xander opened his palm, revealing a golden band spotted with diamonds. Yanking Ryou's hand upwards, he placed the ring on the appropriate finger, grinning lecherously.

"My wife," he repeated solemnly.

Ryou stared at the ring in disbelief.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Let him know that you know best  
'Cause after all you do know best  
Try to slip past his defense  
Without granting innocence  
Lay down a list of what is wrong  
The things you've told him all along  
And pray to God he hears you  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Garrett seated himself heavily on one of the barstools, leaning forward and resting his head in the palm of his hand. A sigh escaped his lips, emerald-green orbs slipping shut momentarily as he thought about the evening's events.

"_I can't do this."_

_The redhead blinked, glancing over at the Egyptian with eyes the size of dinner plates. A cord of fear was struck inside of his heart at the declaration. Malik didn't mean what Garrett thought he meant... right? Yes, the two had been going through a rough time lately – they'd both cheated on one another, and with the same man, on top of that – but that didn't mean Garrett wished for things to end between them for good. Despite all that had happened between them, the secrets revealed and the changes in both their characters, he still loved Malik with all of his heart. He still wanted to be with Malik... to marry and share a life with Malik._

_The Egyptian stood at the mouth of the sitting room, his hands entangled within golden hair, apparently worn out by a mental struggle._

_Garrett stood from the sofa and made his way quickly over to his fiancé, stopping when he was right in front of the Egyptian. "Malik," he said, taking hold of the other man's shoulders. "Malik, look at me." _

_Lavender eyes rose to lock with emerald. Malik shook his head and backed away from Garrett's hold._

"_I can't do this. I'm sorry, Garrett."_

_The younger man didn't know what to do or say to this. So it was really ending, then? Malik was going to leave him. Leave him and return to Ryou. _

_And after all that talk about wanting to work things out, too. Garret's eyes narrowed a fraction, glaring at the floor as he couldn't bring himself to look into Malik's eyes. It had all been an act then, another lie. Malik just saying what he thought Garret wanted to hear, when he had no real intention of 'moving on'._

_Just another lie..._

_Five years, wasted._

"_Why...?" was the only thing he wanted to know._

_A faint smile touched the corner of Malik's lips. He seemed unaware of the way he was breaking Garret's heart. Garret wondered how a man could be so cruel, and yet so innocent at the same time._

"_I love him, Garrett. I never stopped loving him. And I can't lose him again."_

Subconsciously, Garrett had known all along there was another who held a great portion of Malik's heart. Even before he had encountered Ryou and learned of the history between the two, he'd known... Malik was never fully in love with him. They said the words to one another, made love countless times... and yet, Garrett had always felt that Malik, unconsciously or not, pictured someone else in place of the redhead a majority of the time.

And upon meeting Ryou, Garrett found it relatively easy to comprehend why the albino had remained in back of Malik's mind throughout the years. There was something about the pale-skinned male – perhaps his childish, innocent appearance, or his perfect manners, or the nearly feminine shape of his body, or the surprisingly soft voice in which he spoke, or the way he moved so gracefully – that was highly endearing and irresistible.

Garrett could admit to being attracted to Ryou. In fact, after having spent so much time with the petite male lately (he'd become a semi-regular customer at Room21 ever since that first time three and a half weeks ago), he could go as far as to say he was starting to feel more than just physically attracted to him.

But it still hurt... to know that he was not the primary love of Malik's life. It still hurt to know Malik would – and finally did – leave him for Ryou.

"_I love him, Garrett."_

Garrett smiled bitterly, raising his eyes to stare over at the stage upon which the whitenette typically danced.

_I know. It's impossible not to, I guess._

Nonetheless, Garrett wished he hadn't spent five years of his life engaged to Malik, ready and waiting to be married, only to be disappointed in the end. He wished Malik could have been honest with him from the beginning, if he had no real intention of ever wedding the redhead. It enraged him, at first. When Malik broke it to him that he was still in love with Ryou, once he'd finally managed to find a voice Garrett screamed out him, called him names he regretted later and all but threw him out of the house.

"_Don't be this way."_

"_Get the hell away from me! If you love him so much, then just go!"_

_And when Malik didn't just go, Garrett slapped him hard across the cheek and shoved him back several feet._

"_**Go**__!"_

There was nothing that could be done now. Malik had eventually left, gone to retrieve his lost love. It was all over.

Varon the bartender set a beer in front of him, as if sensing his troubles. "Ryou already left," he informed.

Garrett nodded in thanks at the piece of useless information and took a hold of the mug. Ryou was really not someone he wanted to spend time thinking about right now, let alone watch dance. Somewhere in his heart he had some strange feelings for the whitenette, but at the moment all he could feel towards him was resentment. He knew he shouldn't feel that way – was it really Ryou's fault? Ryou had only been trying to move on with his life, supposedly, so was it really his fault that he'd gotten mixed up in this twisted love triangle?

It didn't really matter now, Garrett supposed. Everything would be over soon. Ryou and Malik would run off together, probably get married in way less than five years.

"I'm surprised he showed up at all," he replied.

Varon raised an eyebrow, drying a glass with a rag. "Oh? And why's that?"

Garrett didn't say anything.

Through the thump of the blaring dance music and chatter of drunken club-goers, he thought he heard someone screaming.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_As he begins to raise his voice  
You lower yours and grant him one last choice  
Drive until you lose the road  
Or break with the ones you've followed  
He will do one of two things  
He will admit to everything  
Or he'll say he's just not the same  
And you'll begin to wonder why you came  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ryou didn't know what to do.

To be frank, he had a difficult time comprehending what was going on. It still didn't seem real to the white-haired man. There was just no way his best friend would treat him so terribly... not Xander. Xander was a good man. Ryou trusted Xander – or used to, up until this point.

Everything after Xander's arrival happened in a blur, and left Ryou feeling disoriented as he tried to piece together exactly what was happening right in front of his eyes. The only thing he was aware of was Malik, doubled over several feet away, trying to regain control of his breathing.

He didn't know what to do. Ryou felt so helpless, staring at Malik – the man who came back to him after all those years, just finished confessing the love he still felt for him. And now, because of Ryou, they still could not be together. Because of Ryou, Malik was hurt and there was nothing he could do to protect him.

The ring on his finger sparkled, and Ryou hated the sight of it. Brown eyes narrowed fiercely, the look of anger not characteristic of his usually soft features.

"No," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Xander glanced down at him, thinking he hadn't heard right. So Ryou repeated it.

"No."

He twisted the ring off of his finger and, after staring at it for a moment, thrust it back in Xander's direction. Coldly, he met the older man's gaze. Xander was staring at him blankly.

"I don't accept. I don't feel that way about you, Xander, especially not now. Leave me alone."

He hated to lose Xander as a friend, but the Xander he knew and cared about was not the man standing beside him now. This Xander was a stranger, someone Ryou did not know or trust, and he didn't want to be anywhere near him.

As Ryou began to walk back over to Malik, Xander laughed, reaching out and grabbing a hold of his arm, dragging him back over to his side. "Ryou, do you really think I'm giving you a choice here?" he laughed again, a low sound that gave Ryou chills. "I am not asking you. I'm _telling _you. You_ will_ marry me, and you'll do so of your own free will."

At this, Ryou's eyes narrowed. He would like to see Xander even try to make him do such a thing. Even if the older man was stronger than him, there was nothing he could do that would make Ryou give in to such a threat.

As if reading the expression on his face, Xander grinned, reaching behind him once again and this time pulling forth something much more threatening than a diamond ring.

It was a gun.

Ryou's blood ran cold.

"You see, Ryou, you may not think so at the moment... but you do feel strongly for me. And I know that our love can only grow over time, if you give it the chance. I really feel that we can be... very happy together. I love you more than anyone else ever could. Much more than him."

Idly, he pointed the hand with the gun in Malik's direction.

Ryou stiffened, his jaw slackening as he tried to grapple for words. "X-Xander, stop. I—"

"You're going to marry me," Xander repeated his statement from earlier. "Right now, you will accept my proposal." He held out the ring Ryou had handed back over to him only minutes ago. "Otherwise..."

There was a small _click_ that Ryou heard even over the noise of the rain and the thumping music as the safety was taken off of the gun.

_He's not serious... He can't actually..._

"Xander... stop…"

There were tears in Ryou's eyes, which made Xander smile. "Don't cry, Ryou. I hate to see you cry."

How many times had Xander said that to him in the past? How many times had Ryou willingly stepped into his embrace after hearing such words?

It used to bring him such comfort, to be around Xander – to have Xander's arms around him, holding him. But now as the other man reached out to him, placed an arm around his shoulders and drew him against his chest, Ryou couldn't feel anything but sick. Sick with hatred for this man, sick with fear for Malik, whom the gun was pointed at.

Feeling Ryou tremble, Xander continued to speak to him in a reassuring tone of voice. "Things don't have to be so hard. All you have to do is say yes, and everything can go back to how it should be."

Ryou closed his eyes, feeling lost and helpless. What should he do? What could he do? He was no match against Xander, and even if he was it wouldn't matter; Xander had the upper hand, a gun. There was nothing Ryou could do, nothing Ryou could even hope to do...

...except say yes.

Agree to the proposal. He didn't love Xander, but that hardly mattered right now. If he agreed to marry Xander, Malik would be safe. Malik could walk away from this unharmed, a free man.

"You're insane!" Malik cried from where he knelt several feet away. "Ryou will never agree to this, you bastard!"

"I think you underestimate his feelings for you," Xander replied, hardly pleased to be acknowledging how strong Ryou's feelings for Malik were, but needing to recognize them nonetheless, as they were his ticket to getting Ryou to agree to his terms.

Malik didn't say anything to that, instead turning his focus to Ryou. And he could see it, the look of deep contemplation on Ryou's face. Malik panicked inside.

"Ryou, don't you dare agree to this, you hear me?!"

Ryou didn't acknowledge the words. He opened his eyes and turned into Xander's embrace slowly, bringing an arm to rest against the other's chest. "Let him go," he pleaded, eyes resting on the ring that glinted in the dim atmosphere. "Please, Xander... will you let him go?"

Xander smirked. "Only if you say yes."

It didn't need to be asked, but asked anyways. "And... if I don't?"

"Do I even need to answer that?"

Ryou's eyes fell shut heavily. "No."

That was it then. His mind made up, Ryou held out his trembling left hand.

"Ryou!" Malik gasped. "Are you crazy? What the hell do you think you're doing!"

_I'm sorry..._

"Think of what you're doing! Don't throw your life away for me, don't you dare say yes to him!"

The engagement ring was cold against his skin, but Ryou did not complain as he allowed Xander to slide it onto his finger.

_I'm so sorry, Malik..._

"Ryou!"

Several tears trickled out from the corners of Ryou's eyes.

_I would have loved to go back to that house on the beach... with you..._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend_  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was curiosity that compelled him to pick up from the bar and follow the noise, which he wasn't even sure he'd heard at first until there came a second scream – louder, this time. But no-one else seemed to have heard anything out of the ordinary. Was he just drunk, imagining things? No, as he neared the blazing red EXIT he heard it again.

"_Ryou_!"

..._Ryou?_

He shoved people out of the way, earning crude looks as he did so, not that he cared. Right now, the only thing on his mind was getting to that door, making sure that he wasn't going out of his mind and hearing things.

_Varon said Ryou already left. Why would he be...?_

His thoughts trailed off as he came to stand in front of the door. Now that he was closer to the dance floor – and, consequentially, the speakers – it was impossible to hear much of anything besides the beat of the music. It filled his ears, soaked into his skin and pumped through his body, distracting him.

Shaking his head, Garrett recalled his purpose for being there and focused back on the door again. Frowning, he turned the handle, pushing the door open.

The first thing that greeted him was rain. Rain, and the brick building directly across from the nightclub. But as soon as he stepped outside, letting the door fall shut behind him, the rest of the alleyway became visible to him.

"Malik..."

He was the first thing Garrett saw, being the closest to him. At first Garrett didn't even think to take in the rest of the situation. All he could see was Malik. Malik laying there on the floor, wet and shaking and probably wounded.

"G-Garrett," another voice – not Malik's, though still familiar – answered him, obviously surprised and tinged with an emotion Garret couldn't quite identify.

It was then that Garrett looked passed his fallen former lover. Green eyes widened as he saw Ryou, dressed still in work clothes, huddled against a man whose face Garrett only recognized from seeing in the newspapers several times. Some billionaire who frequented many social events and gave to a lot of charities. What was he doing at a place like this? And with Ryou... was he another client?

Garrett took a step forward, beginning to ask, "what's going on?" when he noticed the gun held by the tall blonde-haired man. Freezing, Garrett's gaze flickered between Ryou and Malik, his mind reeling with thoughts he couldn't even begin to make sense of.

"There's nothing going on," the man with the gun told him, tightening his grip around Ryou's waist. "My fiancé and I were just leaving, actually."

At the word 'fiancé', Garrett's head whipped in Ryou's direction, shock clearly written on his face.

Ryou was... engaged, to this man?

The fear evident in the whitenette's chocolate eyes suggested otherwise. There was far more going on here than met the eye, but the gun in the older man's hands was enough to prove that much.

"Garrett..."

Hearing Malik's voice, Garrett immediately shifted his attention back to his former fiancé. Anxiety was building in his chest as he thought of what he could do, how he could get out of this situation with Malik (and possibly Ryou too). It was dangerous. There were guns involved, and people being threatened. Garrett didn't know the details, but he could figure out that much. It wouldn't be easy, but he had to do something.

"...get out of here."

Thoughts crashing to a halt, Garrett stared blankly down at Malik, the words repeating in his head.

_Get out of here_.

"You should listen to him," said the blonde, raising the gun in his hands and aiming it where Garrett stood, paralyzed by the mere site of it. "It's dangerous for a nice-looking boy like you to be caught in this area."

Fear gripped at Garrett's heart, and he didn't know what to do. There was a gun pointing at him and he couldn't move, couldn't remember how to move. He wanted to run away, of course he wanted to run away. His fight or flight instinct was kicking in, and all his body was telling him was _flight_. But he couldn't leave Malik there on his own.

Clenching his fists, he finally managed a soft "no." It sounded weaker than he'd hoped, and he cursed himself for it.

"Oh, another brave one?"

The man took a step forward, dragging Ryou with him as a result. The whitenette began to wriggle in his arms, trying to break away. "Xander, stop it. He's not a part of this."

Xander shook his head in disagreement. "On the contrary, Ryou, dear, I think he is very much a part of this now. He's a witness, you see."

Ryou's eyes were trained on the gun, watching it frightfully. "B-but there's nothing going on," he repeated Xander's words from several minutes ago. "There's nothing going on, we're... we're just leaving, right, Xander? You and... and me, your... your f-fiancé..."

Xander looked down at Ryou, contemplative for a short while, before conceding. "There is nothing going on here," he agreed, before telling Garrett once again to leave while he still could.

Slowly, Ryou shifted his gaze over to Garrett, silently begging him to go – to take Malik and just _go_. He'd stay... he'd stay with Xander, he didn't mind. But they had to go, they had to leave safely, or Ryou would never be able to live with himself.

Garrett nodded his head. It was regrettable, but there was no way to save both of them. If Ryou was willing to be the sacrifice, then so be it. He was more involved in this than Garrett or Malik anyways, it seemed.

The first shot was fired as soon as Garrett began to approach Malik. It hit the ground not even two feet from where Garrett stood.

"I never said _he_ could leave."

At this, Ryou's eyes widened. "You said you'd let him go if I agreed to your proposal," he reminded Xander, voice starting to shake. "You said you'd let him go!"

Xander smirked. "I did," he replied, cocking the gun once more. "But I never said I'd let him go alive."

The bullet hit flesh this time, a sickening sound that made tore screams from both Garret's and Ryou's mouths.

It wasn't a fatal shot, but there was still blood. Blood that ran from the shoulder down a tanned arm, dripping onto the concrete floor of the alleyway. Malik grunted, slumping forward and clutching his injured shoulder in an attempt to stop the flow of blood. His mind swam with pain from the wound, but he knew he couldn't dwell on it; there were more important things to worry about. Ryou... and now Garrett, too.

Things weren't supposed to happen like this.

"Ryou..." he whispered.

The whitenette was sobbing, unable to believe what he'd just witnessed – and unable to stomach the fact that he hadn't done anything to stop it, that he couldn't have done anything. He was powerless, powerless as always, watching the one person he loved more than anything bleed right before his eyes.

_And he couldn't do anything..._

The tears streamed down his face, mixed with the rain still falling.

No... no, this couldn't be happening.

He couldn't let it happen.

He refused to lose Malik again... Not now, and especially not this way.

The sudden burst of adrenaline was surprising even to him. He twisted in Xander's arms, managing to free himself, and ran.

Predicting where he was running to, Xander instinctively raised the gun, not even hesitating as he pulled the trigger.

But this time, the bullet was met with a shield.

"No..."

Ryou didn't make a sound as the bullet penetrated his flesh. His lips parted, eyes bulged in evident pain, but no noise escaped him. Time seemed to slow almost to a complete stop as blood began to soak through the front of his shirt. Weakly, he took a step forward, remaining upright until his body couldn't handle the stress of holding his weight and his legs gave out from underneath him.

"Ryou!"

This wasn't... what was supposed to happen.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_Somewhere along in the bitterness  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Things happened in a blur. A body fell to the floor, into a puddle of rain, the sound of it unheard of the screams of disbelief, rage, and terror that issued from each of the other three's mouths. _

_One found a burst of energy, enough so to tackle another to the ground, wrestle the gun from his hands and start firing blindly._

_The other panicked and stepped away from the violence, body trembling, eyes not knowing where to look – there was innocent blood and guilty blood pooling, mixing on the ground. Why was this happening? _

_There were sirens in the distance, coming closer. _

_It was impossible to tell who among them blacked out first._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_And I would have stayed up with you all night  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Malik hadn't said a word all night.

Garrett watched him from across the visitor's lounge as he paced back and forth, back and forth, waiting for some news – hopefully good news, but any information at all to calm his fretting nerves. Garrett himself was anxious, playing with his hands, with the hem of his shirt, trying to distract himself somehow. But there was no comfort in the white walls, no comfort from the nurses and technicians who passed by the room without so much as a glance on their direction, no comfort from the intercom that paged various doctors and guests.

_What's taking so long? _

It was the question on both of their minds, though neither man could summon enough courage to actually go and ask someone themselves.

They stayed like that, silent and nervous, until early the next morning.

"Malik Ishtar?" the doctor called.

Malik jumped up from his chair (he'd sat down somewhere around three in the morning, his legs unable to keep him pacing indefinitely). There were dark circles beneath his eyes, which were larger and tinged with red, evidence of a sleepless night.

"What's going on?" Malik demanded, voice harsher than it needed to be – but he was far passed being civil by now. After an entire night without even knowing if Ryou was still alive had left Malik greatly uncaring of if he hurt someone's feelings. "I've been stuck in this damn room the whole night, and none of you assholes in this place has told me anything!"

"Mr. Ishtar –"

"Don't use that tone on me!" The Egyptian interrupted, voice raising and even cracking. "Where is Ryou? I demand to know – I want to see him!"

The doctor didn't say anything at first, only waited for Malik to calm down. His silence only seemed to infuriate the Egyptian, however, and finally Garrett had to get up from his own chair and grab Malik by the shoulders to ensure the other didn't try anything stupid.

"Mr. Ishtar, I think you should sit down."

The suggestion did not please Malik, who insisted that whatever the doctor had to say, he could say it with Malik standing up.

There was a heavy sigh, during which the doctor closed his eyes and shifted on his feet.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you... Ryou Bakura did not make it through the night."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
_had I known how to save a life  
_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

* * *

_Lawli: ...Sorry, guys. I know most of you wanted a happy ending, but for the life of me I couldn't think of a believable one. ^^; I'm not entirely pleased with how this turned out either, but I do like it better than my original idea - in which Malik got shot and Ryou killed himself. God, I'm such a bucket of angst. _

_Happy holidays everyone! _

_A bonus epilogue will be posted shortly. (And I mean it this time, because I plan on posting it either tonight or tomorrow!)_


	17. How It Turns Out: In The End

_Lawli: See, I told you there would be an epilogue! I bet you didn't believe that it would be out so quickly... Not that I blame you, I am just about the slowest updater in the world._

_Anyways. This is my attempt at a sort-of, could-be happy ending. After the way things went last chapter, the remaining boys needed one._

_

* * *

_

_Everything in life happens for a reason._

_Sometimes, it's hard to really tell what that reason is at first. Sometimes, it seems unfair, or cruel, or unbearable. Sometimes you think that there is no reason it all, that things just happen – whether you're a good person or a bad person, whether you think you deserve it or not. And you think, maybe they happen to test your faith, to make you stronger... maybe they happen just to break you. _

_For a long while after Ryou's death, I believed strongly in the latter. Because certainly nothing good came after that. I didn't feel stronger; I didn't feel some restored sense of faith in God or in anyone else. _

_I didn't feel... anything._

_Ryou's funeral was held on a rainy afternoon, the mood reminiscent of that night in the alleyway. It filled me with bitterness, and I couldn't watch as they lowered the casket into the damp earth. I left. _

_Shortly afterwards, I received a message by mail from Malik. It was short, and I didn't really get anything out of it other than another ounce of heartache. He didn't tell me where he was going, or how long he would be gone – if he was ever even planning on returning, if he ever even wanted to see me again. Simply the letter read, I am returning to where it began. _

_I didn't know where it began, or even what 'it' was. _

_Aside from the letter, he made no other attempts to contact me. After trying and failing to reach him via cell phone several times, I made no other attempts to contact him in return. _

_Life went on, I suppose. _

_I spoke at the trial against Alexander Tetsuo. It was the least I could do, for Ryou and Malik both. He was charged with pre-meditated murder and sent to jail, though I'm sure with all of his money he managed to somehow make bail or at the very least shorten his sentence._

_I tried to move on in my love life, dating a few people but never finding someone I could even consider settling down with. No-one could compare to Malik. No-one could compare to Ryou, whom I'm still not sure what my feelings for were – if it was an odd experience of love-at-first sight or something more trivial than that. But if it was something more trivial, I don't think I'd use him as a pillar for other potential lovers to stand up against. _

_Whenever it would rain – and in England, it rained frequently – I would visit his gravesite. Because I know Malik wouldn't want it to be neglected, I know he would always want for there to be fresh flowers and a prayer said for his sake. _

_Things remained this way for a while. _

_Eventually I did manage to find a steady boyfriend. A handsome one, with pale skin, blonde hair, and dark brown eyes that I often found myself lost in. He's kind, soft-spoken but feisty when he wants to be. Gentle in bed, but not without his kinks. _

_He makes me happy, sometimes. He makes me forget how much I've lost, where I could have been, who I could have been with, sometimes. _

_But most of the time when I'm with him, especially when I'm with him in bed, I picture someone else's face in place of his own. And I finally know what Malik had been going through, whenever we made love and he wanted to be making love to Ryou instead of me. It makes me feel guilty, it makes me hate myself, the fact that I'm doing that same thing to another person even though I know how much it hurts to be on the receiving end of that. _

"_Garrett, do you really love me?" he asks occasionally, and I can see in his mocha eyes that he knows. He knows. _

_We've been engaged for two years now._

"_Of course I do," I always answer, and he accepts the lie, and we both go on with the charade of a relationship knowing fully well that it is truly nothing more than that. _

_Despite the good times, it was unfulfilling for both us. But we stuck with it anyways, stuck together. Because he didn't expect he could get any better, and neither did I. There was no-one else who would stay with me while knowing fully well it was not them I was in love with, and he lacked the self-esteem to find someone who might actually love him in return. _

_Life went on._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

On early April morning, there was a knock on his door.

Garrett, still not fully awake, got up from the kitchen table after glancing in his fiancé's direction and finding the other man engrossed in the newspaper. Coffee cup still in hand, he sluggishly made his way to the door, bare feet making soft _pitter-patter_ sounds that echoed through the hallway.

Upon opening the front door, Garrett was greeted with a ghost from the past. A handsome ghost, with dark skin and bleach-blonde hair, with lavender eyes that seemed far too old for a person too young – as if they had seen too much.

The coffee cup crashed to the floor, shattering.

The two stared at each other, wordless. Malik shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, about to meet Garrett's eyes and then deciding otherwise and reverting them to the ground.

After a full minute of silence – and someone calling Garrett's name, which Garrett himself didn't even respond to – Garrett stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

"Hi," he greeted softly.

And the fact that he was actually speaking to him must have restored a small bit of Malik's courage, for the Egyptian raised his head, allowing their eyes to finally lock. "Hi," Malik answered.

"I was wondering if you'd ever come back."

A tiny smile twitched at the corners of Malik's lips, one that Garrett found himself mirroring. "I'm surprised I actually came back. But..." his voice trailed off, but Garrett didn't need for him to finish. He understood the words left unspoken.

_I missed you._

"You want to go somewhere?"

Garrett was surprised by the question. Nervously, he looked back at the house he shared with his fiancé, who was probably still reading the newspaper, unaware of just who was standing outside the door.

It didn't take him very long to answer.

"Yes."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Everything in life happens for a reason._

_Sometimes, it's hard to really tell what that reason is at first._

_Sometimes things seem too good to be true. Sometimes you think you don't deserve it –those good things - because of the awful things you've done, the people you've hurt. _

_And you think, maybe they happen to pull you back from the edge, to remind you that even when you think all is lost, it's not. _

_Sometimes they happen to save you._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_**Things aren't working out.**_

_**-- Garrett. **_

* * *

THE END

* * *


End file.
